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Full text of "The liberty minstrel"

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Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1844, by 

GEORGE W. CLARK, 

In the Clerk's office of the District Court of the Southern District of New York. 



& W. BENEDICT & CO. 

MUSIC STEREOTYPERS AND PRINTERS, 

16 Spruce St. JV*. Y 



PREFACE, 



All creation is musical — all nature speaks the language of 
song. 

' There's music in the sighing of a reed, 
There's music in the gushing of a rill ; 
There's music in all things, if man had ears ; 
The earth is but. an echo of the spheres.' 

And who is not moved by music 1 " who ever dispises music 3 " 
says Martin Luther, " I am displeased with him." 

* There is a charm — a power that sways the breast, 

Bids every passion revel, or be still ; 

Inspires with rage, or all our cares dissolves ; 

Can soothe destruction, and almost soothes despair? 

That music is capable of accomplishing vast good, and that it is 
a source of the most elevated and refined enjoyment when rightly 
cultivated and practiced, no one who understands its power or has 
observed its effects, will for a moment deny. 

' Thou, O music ! canst assuage the pain and heal the wound 

That hath defied the skill of sager comforters ; 

Thou dost restrain each wild emotion, 

Thou dost the rage of fiercest passions chill, 

Or lightest up the flames of holy fire, 

As through the soul thy strains harmonious thrill. 

Who does not desire to see the day when music in this country, 
cultivated and practised by all — music of a chaste, refined and elevat- 
ed style, shall go forth with its angel voice, like a spirit of love up- 
on the wind, everting upon all classes of society a rich and health- 
ful moral influence. When its wonderful power shall be made to 
subserve every righteous cause — to aid every humane effort for the 
promotion of man's social, civil and religious well-being. 

It has been observed by travellers, that after a short residence in 
almost any of the cities of the eastern world, one, would fancy " ev- 
ery second person a musician." During the night, the streets of 
these cities, particularly Rome, the capitol of Italy, are filled with 
all sorts of minstrelsy, and the ear is agreeably greeted with a per- 
petual confluence of sweet sounds. A Scotch traveller, in passing 
through one of the most delightful villas of Rome, overheard a stone- 
mason chanting something in a strain of peculiar melancholy; and 
on inquiry, ascertained it to be the " Lament of Tasso" He soon 
learned that this celebrated piece was familiar to all the common 
people. Torquato Tasso was an Italian poet of great merit, who 



PREFACE. 



was for many years deprived of liberty, and subjected to severe trials 
and misfortunes by the jealousy and cruelty of his patron, the Duke of 
Ferrara. That master-piece of music, so justly admired and so much 
sung by the high and low throughout all Italy, had its origin in the 
wrongs of Tasso. An ardent love of humanity — a deep conscious- 
ness of the injustice of slavery — a heart full of sympathy for the op- 
pressed, and a due appreciation of the blessings of freedom, has giv- 
en birth to the poetry comprising this volume. I have long desired 
to see these sentiments of love, of sympathy, of justice and humani- 
ty, so beautifully expressed in poetic measure, embalmed in sweet 
music ; so that all the people — the rich, the poor, the young, and the 
old, who have hearts to feel, and tongues to move, may sing of the 
wrongs of slavery, and the blessings of liberty, until every human 
being shall recognise in his fellow an equal ; — " a man and a bro- 
ther." Until by familiarity with these sentiments, and their influ- 
ence upon their hearts, the people, whose duty it is, shall " undo the 
heavy burdens and let the oppressed go free." 

I announced, sometime since, my intention of publishing such a 
work. Many have been impatiently waiting its appearance. I 
should have been glad to have issued it and scattered it like leaves 
of the forest over the land, long ago, but circumstances which I 
could not control, have prevented. I purpose to enlarge the work 
from time to time, as circumstances may require. 

Let associations of singers, having the love of liberty in their 
hearts, be immediately formed in every community. Let them 
study thoroughly, and make themselves perfectly familiar with both 
the poetry and the music, and enter into the sentiment of the piece 
they perform, that they may impress it upon their hearers. Above all 
things, let the enunciation of every word be clear and distinct. Most 
of the singing of the present day, is entirely too artificial, stiff and me- 
chanical. It should be easy and natural ; flowing directly from the 
soul of the performer, without affectation or display ; and then sing- 
ing will answer its true end, and not only please the ear, but affect 
and improve the heart. 

To the true friends of universal freedom, the Liberty Min- 
strel is respectfully dedicated. 

New York, Oct. 1844. G. W. CLARK. 



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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



GONE, SOLD AND GONE. 



Words by Whittier. 



Music by G. W.Clark. 




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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 




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Gone, gone — sold and gone, 
To the rice-swamp dank and lone, 
Oh, when weary, sad, and slow, 
From the fields at night they go, 
Faint with toil, and rack'd with pain, 
To their cheerless homes again — 
There no brother's voice shall greet them — 
There no father's welcome meet them. — Gone, tyc. 

Gone, gone—sold and gone, 
To the rice-swamp dank and lone, 
From the tree whose shadow lay 
On their childhood's place of play — 
From the cool spring where they drank— 
Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank— 
From the solemn house of prayer, 
And the holy counsels there.— -Gone, <frc. 

Gone, gone — sold and gone, 

To the rice-swamp dank and lonej 

Toiling through the weary day, 

And at night the Spoiler's prey ; 

Oh, that they had earlier died. 
Sleeping calmly, side by side, 

Where the tyrant's power is o'er, 

And the fetter galls no more ! — Gone, fyc. 



Gone, gone — sold and gone, 
To the rice-swamp dank and lone, 
gjy the holy love He beareth— 
By the bruised reed He spare th — 
Oh, may He, to whom alone 
All their cruel wrongs are kpown, 
Still their hope and refuge prove, 
With a more than mother's love. — Gone, #c. 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



WHAT MEANS THAT SAD AND DISMAL LOOK'? 

Words by Geo. Russell. Arranged from "Near the Lake," by G. W. C. 



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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



Ah ! Mother, hast thou ever known 
The pain of parting ties ?- 

Was ever infant from thee torn 
And sold before thine eyes 1 

Say, would not grief thy bosom 
swell % 
Thy tears like rivers flow 1 
Should some rude ruffian seize and 
sell 
The child thou lovest so^ 

There's feeling in a Mother's 
breast, 
Though colored be her skin ! 
And though at Slavery's foul be- 
hest, 
She must not weep for kin. 

I had a lovely, smiling child, 

It sat upon my knee ; 
And oft a tedious hour beguiled, 

With merry heart of glee. 

That child was from my bosom 
torn, 
And sold before my eyes ; 
With outstretched arms, and looks 
forlorn, 
It uttered piteous cries. 

Mother! dear Mother '.—take, O 
take 
Thy helpless little one ! 
Ah! then I thought my heart 
would break ; 
My child— my child was gone. 

Long, long ago, my child they 
stole, 
But yet my grief remains ; 
These tears flow freely— and my 
soul 
In bitterness complains. 

Then ask not why "my dismal 
look," 
Nor why my " falling tears," 
Such wrongs, what human heart 
can brook % 
No hope for me appears. 



The Slave Hoy's Wish. 

BY ELIZA LEE POLLEN. 

I wish I was that little bird, 
Up in the bright blue sky ; 

That sings and flies just where he 
will, 
And no one asks him why. 

I wish I was that little brook, 
That runs so swift along ; 

Through pretty flowers and shin* 
ing stones, 
Singing a merry song. 

I wish I was that butterfly, 
Without a thought or care ; 

Sporting my pretty, brilliant wings, 
Like a flower in the air. 

I wish I was that wild, wild deer, 

I saw the other day ; 
Who swifter than an arrow flew. 

Through the forest far away. 

I wish I was that little cloud, 
By the gentle south wind driven ; 

Floating along, so free and bright. 
Far, far up into heaven. 

I'd rather be a cunning fox, 
And hide me in a cave ; 

I'd rather be a savage wolf, 
Than what I am — a slave. 

My mother calls me her good boy. 
My father calls me brave ; 

What wicked action have I done, 
That I should be a slave. 

I saw my little sister sold, 

So will they do to me ; 
My Heavenly Father, let me die, 

For then I shall be free. 



10 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



THE BEREAVED FATHER. 

Words by Miss Chandler. Music by G. W. C. 



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Woe to the hearts that heard, unmoved, 
The mother's anguish'd shriek ! 

And mock'd, with taunting scorn, the tears 
That bathed a father's cheek. 

Woe to the hands that tore you hence, 

My innocent and good ! 
Not e'en the tigress of the wild, 

Thus tears her fellow's brood. 

I list to hear your soft sweet tones, 

Upon the morning air ; 
I gaze amidst the twilight's gloom, 

As if to find you there. 

But you no more come bounding forth 

To meet me in your glee ; 
And when the evening shadows fall, 

Ye are not at my knee. 

Your forms are aye before my eyes, 

Your voices on my ear, 
And all things wear a thought of you, 

But you no more are here. 

You were the glory of my life, 

My blessing and my pride ! 
I half forgot the name of slave, 

When you were by my side ! 

Woe for your lot, ye doom'd ones S woe 

A seal is on your fate ! 
And shame, and toil, and wretchedness. 

On all your steps await 1 



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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



SLAVE GIRL MOURNING HER FATHER. 
Parodied from Mrs. Sigourney by G. W. C. 



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LIBERTY MINSTREL, 



13 



I begged him, " father, do not go ! 

For, since my mother died, 
I love no one so well as you ;" 

And, clinging to his side, 
The tears came gushing down my cheeks 

Until my eyes were dim ; 
Some were in sorrow for the dead, 

And some in love for him. 

He knelt and prayed of God above, 

" My little daughter spare, 
And let us both here meet again, 

O keep her in thy care." 
He does not come !— I watch for him 

At evening twilight grey, 
Till every shadow wears his shape, 

Along the grassy way. 

I muse and listen all alone, 

When stormy winds are high, 
And think I hear his tender tone, 

And call, but no reply ; 
And so I've done these four long years, 

Without a friend or home, 
Yet every dream of hope is vain,— 

Why don't my father come ? 

Father — dear father, are you sick, 

Upon a stranger shore 7 — 
The people say it must be so— 

O send to me once more, 
And let your little daughter come, 

To soothe your restless bed, 
And hold the cordial to your lips, 

And press your aching head. 

Alas ! — I fear me he is dead ! — 

Who will my trouble share 1 
Or tell me where his form is laid, 

And let me travel there ? 
By mother's tomb I love to sit, 

Where the green branches wave ; 
Good people ! help a friendless child 

To find her father's grave. 



Tlie Slave and lier ISabe. 

WORDS BY CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH. 

"Can a woman forget her sucking child?' 
Air — "Slave Girl mourning her Father." 
O, massa, let me stay, to catch 

My baby's sobbing breath ; 



His little glassy eye to watch, 
And smooth his limbs in death, 

And cover him with grass and leaf, 
Beneath the plantain tree ! 

It is not sullenness, but grief— 
O, massa, pity me ! 

God gave me babe — a precious boon, 

To cheer my lonely heart, 
But massa called to work too soon, 

And I must needs depart. 
The morn was chill — I spoke no word, 

But feared my babe might die, 
And heard all day, or thought I heard, 

My little baby cry. 

At noon — O, how I ran ! and took 

My baby to my breast ! 
I lingered — and the long lash broke 

My sleeping infant's rest. 
I worked till night — till darkest night, 

In torture and disgrace ; 
Went home, and watched till morning 
light, 

To see my baby's face. 

The fulness from its cheek was gone, 

The sparkle from its eye ; 
Now hot, like fire, now cold, like stone, 

I knew my babe must die. 
I worked upon plantation ground, 

Though faint with woe and dread, 
Then ran, or flew, and here I found — 

See massa, almost dead. 

Then give me but one little hour — 

O ! do not lash me so ! 
One little hour — one little hour — 

And gratefully I'll go. 
Ah me ! the whip has cut my boy, 

I heard his feeble scream ; 
No more — farewell my only joy, 

My life's first gladsome dream ! 

I lay thee on the lonely sod, 

The heaven is bright above ; 
These Christians boast they have a God, 

And say his name is Love : 
O gentle, loving God, look down ! 

My dying baby see ; 
The mercy that from earth is flown, 

Perhaps may dwell with Thee ! 



14 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



THE NEGRO'S APPEAL. 

Words by Cowper. Tune—" Isle of Beauty." 



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Is there, as ye sometimes tell me, 

Is there one who reigns on high % 
Has he bid you buy and sell me, 

Speaking from his throne — the sky 1 
Ask him, if your knotted scourges, 

Matches, blood-extorting screws, 
Are the means that duty urges 

Agents of his will to use. 

Hark ! he answers — wild tornadoes, 

Strewing yonder sea with wrecks, 
Wasting towns, plantations, meadows, 

Are the voice with which he speaks. 
He, foreseeing what vexations 

Afric's sons should undergo, 
Fixed their tyrant's habitations, 

Where his whirlwinds answer — No ! 

By our blood in Afric' wasted, 

Ere our necks received the chain ; 
By the miseries that we tasted, 

Crossing in your barks the main : 
By our sufferings, since ye brought us 

To the man-degrading mart, 
All sustained by patience, taught us 

Only by a broken heart — 

Deem our nation brutes no longer, 

Till some reason ye shall find, 
Worthier of regard and stronger 

Than the color of our kind,. 
Slaves of gold! whose sordid dealings 

Tarnish all your boasted powers ; 
Prove that you have human feelings. 

Ere you proudly question ours. 



16 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



NEGRO BOY SOLD FOR A WATCH.* 

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never give again— I gave a fine boy for it.' 5 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 17 



His father's hope, his mother's pride. 
Though black, yet comely to the view 

I tore him helpless from their side, 
And gave him to a ruffian crew — 

To fiends that Afric's coast annoy, 
I sold the hapless Negro Boy. 

From country, friends, and parents torn, 
His tender limbs in chains confined, 

I saw him o'er the billows borne, 
And marked his agony of mind; 

But still to gain this simple toy, 

I gave the weeping Negro Boy. 

In isles that deck the western wave 

1 doomed the hapless youth to dwell, 
A poor, forlorn, insulted slave ! 

A BEAST THAT CHRISTIANS BUY AND SELL ! 

And in their cruel tasks employ 
The much-enduring Negro Boy. 

His wretched parents long shall mourn, 
Shall long explore the distant main 

In hope to see the youth return ; 
But all their hopes and sighs are vain : 

They never shall the sight enjoy, 

Of their lamented Negro Boy. 

Beneath a tyrant's harsh command, 
He wears away his youthful prime ; 

Far distant from his native land, 
A stranger in a foreign clime. 

No pleasing thoughts his mind employ, 

A poor, dejected Negro Boy. 

But He who walks upon the wind, 
"Whose voice in thunder's heard on high, 

Who doth the raging tempest bind, 
And hurl the lightning through the sky, 

In his own time will sure destroy 
The oppressor of the Negro Boy. 

2* 



18 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



I AM MONARCH OF NOUGHT I SURVEY. 

A Parody. Air " Old Dr. Fleury." 



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I am out of humanity's reach, 

And must finish my life with a groan ; 
Never hear the sweet music of speech 

That tells me my body's my own. 
Society, friendship, and love, 

Divinely bestowed upon some, 
Are blessings I never can prove, 

If slavery's my portion to come. 

Religion ! what treasures untold, 

Reside in that heavenly word ! 
More precious than silver or gold, 

Or all that this earth can afford. 
But I am excluded the light 

That leads to this heavenly grace ; 
The Bible is clos'd to my sight, 

Its beauties I never can trace. 

Ye winds, that have made me your sport, 
Convey to this sorrowful land, 

Some cordial endearing report, 
Of freedom from tyrany's hand. 



My friends, do they not often send, 
A wish or a thought after me ? 

O, tell me I yet have a friend, 
A friend I am anxious to see. 

How fleet is a glance of the mind ! 

Compared with the speed of its flight ; 
The tempest itself lags behind, 

And the swift-winged arrows of light. 
When I think of Victoria's domain, 

In a moment I seem to be there, 
But the fear of being taken again, 

Soon hurries me back to despair. 

The wood-fowl has gone to her nest, 

The beast has lain down in his lair ; 
To me, there's no season of rest, 

Though I to my quarter repair. 
If mercy, O Lord, is in store, 

For those who in slavery pine ; 
Grant me when life's troubles are o'er, 

A place in thy kingdom divine. 



20 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



THE AFRIC'S DREAM. 



Words by Miss Chandler. 



" Emigrant's Lament," arranged by G. W. C, 



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21 




My chains, these hateful chains, were gone— ©h 8 would that I might 

die, 
So from my swelling pulse I could forever cast them by ! 
And on, away, o'er land and sea, my joyful spirit passed^ 
Till, 'neath my own banana tree, I lighted down at last. 

My cabin door, with all its flowers, was still profusely gay, 

As when I lightly sported there, in childhood's careless day ! 

But trees that were as sapling twigs, with broad and shadowing 

bough, 
Around the well-known threshhold spread a freshening coolness now* 

The birds whose notes I used to hear, were shouting on the earth, 
As if to greet me back again with their wild strains of mirth ; 
My own bright stream was at my feet, and how I laughed to lave 
My burning lip, and cheek, and brow, in that delicious wave ! 

My boy, my first-born babe, had died amid his early hours, 
And there we laid him to his sleep among the clustering flowers; 
Yet lo ! without my cottage-door he sported in his glee, 
With her whose grave is far from his, beneath yon linden tree. 

I sprang to snatch them to my soul; when breathing out my name s 
To grasp my hand, and press my lip, a crowd of loved ones came ! 
Wife, parents, children, kinsmen, friends ! the dear and lost ones all, 
With blessed words of welcome came, to greet me from my thrall. 

Forms long unseen were by my side ; and thrilling on my ear, 
Came cadences from gentle tones, unheard for many a year ; 
And on my cheeks fond lips were pressed, with true affection's kiss— 
And so ye waked me from my sleep — but 'twas a dream of bliss ! 



22 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



SONG OF THE COFFLE GANG.* 
Words by the Slaves. Music by G. W. G\ 




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23 




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See wives and husbands sold apart, 
The children's screams ! — it breaks my heart ; 
There's a better day a coming, will you go along with me 1 
There's a better day a coming, go sound the jubilee, 

O gracious Lord ! when shall it be, 

That we poor souls shall all be free 1 
Lord, break them Slavery powers— will you go along with me 1 
Lord, break them Slavery powers, go sound the jubilee. 

Dear Lord I dear Lord ! when Slavery'll cease, 

Then we poor souls can have our peace ; 
There's a better day a coming, will you go along with me? 
There's a better day a coming, go sound the jubilee. 

* This song is said to be sung by Slaves, as they are chained in gangs, when 
parting from friends for the far off South— children taken from parents, husbands 
from wives, and brothers from sisters. 



24 



LIBERTY MINSTREL, 



HARK! I HEAR A SOUND OF ANGUISH. 




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Let us raise our supplication 
For the wretched suffering slave, 

All whose life is desolation, 
All whose hope is in the grave ; 

God of mercy ! 
From thy throne, O hear and save. 

Those in bonds we would remember 
As if we with them were bound ; 

For each crushed, each suffering member 
Let our sympathies abound> 
Till our labors 
Spread the smiles of freedom round. 

Even now the word is spoken ; 

li Slavery's cruel power must cease, 
From the bound the chain be broken, 
Captives hail the kind release," 
While in splendor 
Comes to reign the Prince of Peace. 
3 



26 



LIBERTY MINSTREL, 



BROTHERS BE BRAVE FOR THE PINING SLAVE. 

Air—" Sparkling and Bright." 



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Brothers be brave for the pining slave, 

From his wife and children riven ; 
From every vale their bitter wail 
Goes sounding up to Heaven. 

Then for the life of that poor wife, 

And for those children pining; 
O ne'er give o'er till the chains no more 
Around their limbs are twining. 

Gloomy and damp is the low rice swamp, 
Where their meagre bands are wasting ; 
All worn and weak, in vain they seek 
For rest, to the cool shade hasting ; 
For drivers fell, like fiends from hell, 

Cease not their savage shouting ; 
And the scourge's crack, from quivering baek^ 
Sends up the red blood spouting. 

Into the grave looks only the slave, 

For rest to his limbs aweary ; 
His spirit's light comes from that night, 
To us so dark and dreary. 
That soul shall nurse its heavy curse 

Against a day of terror, 
When the lightning gleam of his wrath shall stream 
Like fire, on the hosts of error. 

Heavy and stern are the bolts which burn 

In the right hand of Jehovah ; 
To smite the strong red arm of wrong, 
And dash his temples over; 
Then on amain to rend the chain, 
Ere bursts the vallied thunder ; 
Right onward speed till the slave is freed — 
His manacles torn asunder. 

E. D. H, 



LIBERTY MINSTREL, 



THE QUADROON MAIDEN. 

Words by Longfellow. Theme from the Indian Maid. 



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30 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



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LIBERTY MiNSTREL. 



31 



He said, " My ship at anchor rides 
In yonder broad lagoon ; 

I only wait the evening tides, 
And the rising of the moon. 

Before them, with her face up- 
raised, 

In timid attitude, 
Like one half curious, half amazed, 

A Quadroon maiden stood. 

And on her lips there played a 
smile 

As holy, meek, and faint, 
As lights, in some cathedral aisle, 

The features of a saint. 

" The soil is barren, the farm is 
old," 
The thoughtful Planter said, 
Then looked upon the Slaver's 
gold, 
And then upon the maid. 

His heart within him was at strife, 
With such accursed gains; 

For he knew whose passions gave 
her life, 
Whose blood ran in her veins. 

But the voice of nature was too 
weak : 
He took the glittering gold ! 
Then pale as death grew the maid- 
en's cheek, 
Her hands as icy cold. 

The Slaver led her from the door, 
He led her by the hand, 

To be his slave and paramour 
In a far and distant land. 



Domestic' Bliss. 

BY REV. JAMES GREGG. 

Domestic bliss ; thou fairest flower 
That erst in Eden grew, 

Dear relic of the happy bower, 
Our first grand parents knew ! 



We hail thee in the rugged soil 
Of this waste wilderness, 

To cheer our way and cheat our 
toil, 
With gleams of happiness. 

In thy mild light we travel on, 
And smile at toil and pain ; 

And think no more of Eden gone, 
For Eden won again. 

Such, Emily, the bliss, the joy 
By Heaven bestowed on you ; 

A husband kind, a lovely boy, 
A father fond and true. 

Religion adds her cheering beams, 
And sanctifies these ties; 

And sheds o'er all the brighter 
gleams, 
She borrows from the skies. 

But ah ! reflect ; are all thus blest ^ 
Hath home such charms for all ? 

Can such delights as these invest 
Foul slavery's wretched thrall. 

Can those be happy in these ties 
Who wear her galling chain 1 

Or taste the blessed charities 
That in the household reign 1 

Can those be blest, whose hope, 

whose life, 
Hang on a tyrant's nod ; 
To whom nor husband, child, nor 

wife 
Are known — yea, scarcely God'? 

Whose ties may all be rudely riven, 

At avarice' fell behest ; 
Whose only hope of home is 

heaven, 

The grave their only rest. 

Oh ! think of those, the poor, th' op* ' 
pressed, 
In your full hour of bliss ; 
Nor e'er from prayer and effort 
rest, 
While earth bears woe like this. 



32 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



O PITY THE SLAVE MOTHER. 



Words from the Liberator. 



Air, Araby's Daughter. 






I pity the slave mother, careworn and weary. Who 
I lament her sad fate, all so hopeless and dreary, I la- 



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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 33 



The mildew of slavery has blighted each blossom, 

That ever has bloomed in her path- way below ; 
It has froze every fountain that gushed in her bosom, 

And chilled her heart's verdure with pitiless woe : 
Her parents, her kindred, all crushed by oppression ; 

Her husband still doomed in its desert to stay ; 
No arm to protect from the tyrant's aggression — 

She must weep as she treads on her desolate way. 

O, slave-mother, hope ! see — the nation is shaking ! 

The arm of the Lord is awake to thy wrong ! 
The slave-holder's heart now with terror is quaking 

Salvation and Mercy to Heaven belong ! 
Rejoice, O rejoice ! for the child thou art rearing, 

May one day lift up its unmanacled form, 
While hope, to thy heart, like the rain-bow so cheering, 

Is born, like the rain-bow, 'mid tempest and storm. 



Hew long: ! O ! how long I 

How long will the friend of the slave plead in vain 7 

How long e'er the Christian will loosen the chain 1 

If he, by our efforts, more hardened should be, 

O Father, forgive him ! we trust but in thee. 

That 'we're all free and equal,' how senseless the cry, 

While millions in bondage are groaning so nigh ! 

O where is our freedom ? equality where ? 

To this none can answer, but echo cries, where *? 

O'er this stain on our country we'd fain draw a veil, 

But history's page will proclaim the sad tale, 

That Christians, unblushing, could shout { we are free,' 

Whilst they the oppressors of millions could be. 

They can feel for themselves, for the Pole they can feel, 

Towards Afric's children their hearts are like steel ; 

They are deaf to their call, to their wrongs they are blind ; 

In error they slumber nor seek truth to find. 

Though scorn and oppression on our pathway attend, 
Despised and reviled, we the slave will befriend ; 
Our Father, thy blessing ! we look but to thee, 
Nor cease from our labors till all shall be free. 
Should mobs in their fury with missiles assail, 
The cause it is righteous, the truth will prevail ; 
Then heed not their clamors, though loud they proclaim 
That freedom shall slumber, and slavery reign. 



34 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



THE FUGITIVE SLAVE TO THE CHRISTIAN. 





Words by Elizur Wright, jr. Music arranged from Cracovienne. 




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35 



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on my track; O Christ-ian! will you 



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I felt the stripes, the lash I saw, 
Red, dripping with a father's gore ; 
And, worst of all their lawless law, 
The insults that my mother bore ! 

The hounds are baying on my track, 
O Christian ! will you send me back 1 

Where human law o'errules Divine, 
Beneath the sheriff's hammer fell 
My wife and babes, — I call them mine, — 
And where they suffer, who can tell ? 
The hounds are baying on my track, 
O Christian ! will you send me back 1 

I seek a home where man is man, 
If such there be upon this earth. 



36 LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



To draw my kindred, if I can, 
Around its free, though humble hearth. 
The hounds are baying on my track, 
O Christian ! will you send me back ! 



The Strength of Tyranny. 

The tyrant's chains are only strong 

While slaves submit to wear them ; 
And, who could bind them on the strong, 

Determined not to wear them % 
Then clank your chains, e'en though the links 

Were light as fashion's feather : 
The heart which rightly feels and thinks 

Would cast them altogether. 

The lords of earth are only great 

While others clothe and feed them ! 
But what were all their pride and state 

Should labor cease to heed them % 
The swain is higher than a king : 

Before the laws of nature, 
The monarch were a useless thing, 

The swain a useless creature. 

We toil, we spin, we delve the mine, 

Sustaining each his neighbor ; 
And who can hold a right divine 

To rob us of our labor % 
We rush to battle— bear our lot 

In every ill and danger— 
And who shall make the peaceful cot 

To homely joy a stranger % 

Perish all tyrants far and near, 

Beneath the chains that bind us ; 
And perish too that servile fear 

Which makes the slaves they find us : 
One grand, one universal claim — 

One peal of moral thunder — 
One glorious burst in Freedom's name, 

And rend our bonds asunder ! 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



37 



THE BLIND SLAVE BOY. 



Words by Mrs. Dr. Bailey. 



Music arranged from Sweet Afton. 




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My mother, come back to me ! close to thy breast 

Once more let thy poor little blind one be pressed ; 

Once more let me feel thy warm breath on my cheek. 

And hear thee in accents of tenderness speak ! 

O mother ! I've no one to love me— no heart 

Can bear like thine own in my sorrows a part, 

No hand is so gentle, no voice is so kind, 

Oh ! none like a mother can cherish the blind ! 

Poor blind one ! No mother thy wailing can hear. 
No mother can hasten to banish thy fear ; 
For the slave-owner drives her, o'er mountain and wild, 
And for one paltry dollar hath sold thee, poor child ! 
Ah ! who can in language of mortals reveal 
The anguish that none but a mother can feel, 
When man in his vile lust of mammon hath trod 
On her child, who is stricken and smitten of God ! 



Blind, helpless, forsaken, with strangers alone. 

She hears in her anguish his piteous moan ; 

As he eagerly listens — but listens in vain, 

To catch the loved tones of his mother again! 

The curse of the broken in spirit shall fall 

On the wretch who hath mingled this wormwood and gall ; 

And his gain like a mildew shall blight and destroy, 

Who hath torn from his mother the little blind boy ! 



40 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



SLAVE'S WRONGS. 
Words by Miss Chandler. Arranged from " Rose of Allandale." 

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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



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The earth was filled with the triumph shout 

Of men who had burst their chains ; 
But his, the heaviest of them all, 

Still lay on his burning veins ; 
In his master's hall there was luxury, 

And wealth, and mental light ; 
But the very book of the Christian law, 

Was hidden from his sight. 

In his master's halls there was wine and mirth, 

And songs for the newly free ; 
But his own low cabin was desolate 

Of all but misery. 



42 LIBERTY MXNSTKJSL. 



He felt it all—and to bitterness 

His heart within him turned ; 
While the panting wish for liberty, 

Like a fire in his bosom burned. 

The haunting thought of his wrongs grew changed 

To a darker and fiercer hue, 
Till the horrible shape it sometimes wore 

At last familiar grew ; 
There was darkness all within his heart, 

And madness in his soul ; 
And the demon spark, in his bosom nursed, 

Blazed up beyond control. 

Then came a scene ! oh ! such a scene ! 

I would I might forget 
The ringing sound of the midnight scream, 

And the hearth-stone redly wet ! 
The mother slain while she shrieked in vain 

For her infant's threatened life ; 
And the flying form of the frighted child, 

Struck down by the bloody knife. 

There's many a heart that yet will start 

From its troubled sleep, at night, 
As the horrid form of the vengeful slave 

Comes in dreams before the sight. 
The slave was crushed, and his fetters' link 

Drawn tighter than before ; 
And the bloody earth again was drenched 

With the streams of his flowing gore. 

Ah ! know they not, that the tightest band 

Must burst with the wildest power % — 
That the more the slave is oppressed and wronged, 

Will be fiercer his rising hour 1 
They may thrust him back with the arm of might, 

They may drench the earth with his blood — 
But the best and purest of their own, 

Will blend with the sanguine flood. 

I could tell thee more— but my strength is gone, 

And my breath is wasting fast ; 
Long ere the darkness to-night has fled, 

Will my life from the earth have passed : 
But this, the sum of all I have learned, 

Ere I go I will tell to thee ; — 
If tyrants would hope for tranquil hearts, 

They must let the oppressed go free. 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



43 



MY CHILD IS GONE. 



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Music by G. W. C. 




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They tore him from my heart away ; 
And now I cry, by night by day — 
My child is gone I 

How many a free-born babe is press'd 
With fondness to its mother's breast, 
And rocked upon her arms to rest, 

While mine is gone ! 

No longer now, at eve I see, 
Beneath the sheltering plantain tree, 
My baby cradled on my knee, 

For he is gone ! 



And when I seek my cot at night, 
There's not a thing that meets my sight, 
But tells me that my soul's delight, 
My child, is gone ! 

I sink to sleep, and then I seem 
To hear again his parting scream 
I start and wake — 'tis but a dream — 
My child is gone ! 

Gone — till my toils and griefs are o'er, 
And I shall reach that happy shore, 
Where negro mothers cry no more — 
My child is gone ! 



44 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



COMFORT IN AFFLICTION. 
Words by William Leggett. Music by G. W. C. 




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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 45 



How sweet it were at once to die, 
And leave this blighted orb afar ! 

Mix soul with soul to cleave the sky, 
And soar away from star to star ! 

But oh ! how dark, how drear, how lone, 
Would seem the brightest world of bliss, 

If, wancteriiig through each radiant one, 
We failed to find the loved of this ! 

If there no more the ties should twine, 
Which Death's cold hand alone can sever, 

Ah ! then those stars in mockery shine, 
More hateful as they shine forever ! 

It cannot be — each hope and fear, 
That lights the eye or clouds the brow, 

Proclaims there is a happier sphere 
Than this bleak world that holds us now ! 

There is a voice which sorrow hears, 
When heaviest weighs life's galling chain, 

'Tis heaven that whispers, "dry thy tears, 
The pure in heart shall meet again." 

Tlie Poor JLittle Slave* 

FROM "THE CHARTER OAK." 

O pity the poor little slave, 
Who labors hard through all the day — 

And has no one, 

When day is done, 
To teach his youthful heart to pray. 

No words of love— no fond embrace — 
No smiles from parents kind and dear ; 
No tears are shed 
Around his bed, 
When fevers rage, and death is near. 

None feel for him when heavy chains 
Are fastened to his tender limb ; 

No pitying eyes, 

No sympathies, 
No prayers are raised to heaven for him. 

Yes I will pity the poor slave, 
And pray that he may soon be free ; 
That he at last, 
When days are past, 
In heaven may have his liberty. 



46 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



THE BEREAVED MOTHER. 

Words by Jesse Hutchinson. Air, " Kathleen O'Moore." 



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The lash of the master her deep sorrows mock, 
While the child of her bosom is sold on the block ; 
Yet loud shrieked that mother, poor heart broken mother, 
In sorrow and woe. 

The babe in return, for its fond mother cries, 
While the sound of their waitings together arise ; 
They shriek for each other, the child and the mother, 
In sorrow and woe. 

The harsh auctioneer to sympathy cold, 
Tears the babe from its mother and sells it for gold; 
While the infant and mother, loud shriek for each other, 
In sorrow and woe. 

At last came the parting of mother and child, 
Her brain reeled with madness, that mother was wild ; 
Then the lash could not smother the shrieks of that mother,* 
Of sorrow and woe. 

The child was borne off to a far distant clime, 
While the mother was left in anguish to pine; 
But reason departed, and she sank broken hearted, 
In sorrow and woe. 

That poor mourning mother, of reason bereft, 
Soon ended her sorrows and sank cold in death : 
Thus died that slave mother, poor heart broken mother, 
In sorrow and woe. 

Oh ! list ye kind mothers to the cries of the slave ; 
The parents and children implore you to save ; 
Go! rescue the mothers, the sisters and brothers, 
From sorrow and woe. 



48 



LIBERTY MINSTREL^ 



HEARD YE THAT CRY. 

From " Wind of the Winter night." 



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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 49 



The white man oppressed him — the white man for gold, 
Made him toil amidst tortures that cannot be told ; 
He robbed him, and spoiled him, of all that was dear, 
And made him the prey of affliction and fear. 

But his anguish was seen, and his wailings were heard, 
By the Lord God of Hosts ; whose vengeance deferred, 
Gathers force by delay, and with fury will burst, 
On his impious oppressor — the tyrant accurst ! 

Arouse ye, arouse 'ye ! ye generous and brave, 

Plead the rights of the poor — plead the cause of the slave 5 

Nor cease your exertions till broken shall be 

The fetters that bind him, and the slave shall be free. 



Sleep ©21 my CtBild* 

BY R. J. H. 

Sleep on, my child, in peaceful rest, 
While lovely visions round thee play ; 
No care or grief has touched thy breast. 
Thy life is yet a cloudless day. 

Far distant is my childhood's home — 
No mother's smiles — no father's care! 
Oh ! how I'd love again to roam, 
Where once my little playmates were ! 

Sleep on, thou hast not felt the chain ; 
But though 'tis yet unmingled joy, 
I may not see those smiles again, 
Nor clasp thee to my breast, my boy. 

And must I see thee toil and bleed ! 
Thy manly soul in fetters tied ; 
'Twill wring thy mother's heart indeed — 
Oh ! would to God that I had died ! • 

That soul God's own bright image bears— 
But oh ! no tongue thy woes can tell ; 
Thy lot is cast in blood and tears, 
And soon these lips must say —farewell ! 



50 



LIBERTY MINSTREL 



ZAZA—THE FEMALE SLAVE. 



Words by Miss Ball. 



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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 51 



Say, O fond Zurima, 

Where dost thou stay % 
Say, doth another 

List to thy sweet lay 1 
Say, doth the orange still 

Bloom near our cotl 
Zurima, Zurima, 

Am I forgot % 
O, my country, my country ! how long I for thee, 
Far over the mountain, far over the sea, 

Under the baobab 

Oft have I slept, 
Fanned by sweet breezes 

That over me swept. 
Often in dreams 

Do my weary limbs lay 
'Neath the same baobab, 

Far, far away, 
O my country, my country, how long I for thee, 
Far over the mountain, far over the sea. 

O for the breath 

Of our own waving palm, 
Here, as I languish, 

My spirit to calm— 
O for a draught 

From our own eool-ing lake, 
Brought by sweet mother, 
My spirit to wake. 
O my country, my country, how long I for thee, 
Far over the mountain, far over the sea. 



52 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



PRAYER FOR THE SLAVE. 

Tune — Hamburgh. 



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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 53 



The captive exiles make their moans, 

From sin impatient to be free ; 
Call home, call home, thy banished ones ! 

Lead captive their captivity ! 

Out of the deep regard their cries, 
The fallen raise ; the mourners cheer, 

Oh, Son of Righteousness, arise, 
And scatter all their doubts and fear, 

Stand by them in the fiery hour, 
Their feebleness of mind defend ; 

And in their weakness show thy power, 
And make them patient to the end. 

Relieve the souls whose cross we bear, 
For whom thy suffering members mourn : 

Answer our faith's effectual prayer; 
And break the yoke so meekly borne ! 



ff£emeIllfoeriIlg , that €£©& Is just. 

Oh righteous God ! whose awful frown 

Can crumble nations to the dust, 
Trembling we stand before thy throne. 

When we reflect that thou art just. 

Dost thou not see the dreadful wrong, 
Which Afric's injured race sustains 1 

And wilt thou not arise ere long, 
To plead their cause, and break their chains 1 

Must not thine anger quickly rise 
Against the men whom lust controls, 

Who dare thy righteous laws despise 
And traffic in the blood of souls % 



54 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



THE FUGITIVE. 



Words by L. M. i 




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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 55 



I told him he had fled away 

From his kind master, friends, and home j 

That he was black— a slave astray, 

And should return as he had come ; 

That I would to his master give 

The straying villain fugitive. 

He fell upon his trembling knee 
And claimed he was a brother man, 
That I was bound to set him free, 
According to the gospel plan ; 
And if I would God's grace receive, 
That I must help the fugitive. 

He showed the stripes his master gave, 
The festering wound — the sightless eye, 
The common badges of the slave, 
And said he would be free, or die ; 
And if I nothing had to give, 
I should not stop the fugitive. 

He owned his was a sable skin, 

That which his Maker first had given ; 

But mine would be a darker sin, 

That would exclude my soul from heaven; 

And if I would God's grace receive, 

I should relieve the fugitive. 

I bowed and took the stranger in, 

And gave him meat, and drink, and rest, 

I hope that God forgave my sin, 

And made me with that brother blest; 

I am resolved, long as I live, 

To help the panting fugitive. 



56 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



AM I NOT A MAN AND BROTHER 1 

Words by A. C. L. Air—" Bride's Farewell." 



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LIBERTY MINSTREL 5? 



Am I not a man and brother 1 

Have I not a soul to save % 
Oh, do not my spirit smother, 

Making me a wretched slave : 
God of mercy, God of mercy, 

Let me fill a freeman's grave ! 

Yes, thou art a man and brother, 

Though thou long hast groaned a slave, 

Bound with erael cords and tether 
From the cradle to the grave ! 

Yet the Saviour, yet the Saviour, 
Bled and died all souls to save. 

Yes, thou art a man and brother, 

Though we long have told thee nay : 

And are bound to aid each other, 
All along our pilgrim way. 

Come and welcome, come and welcome, 

Join with us to praise and pray ! 

Am I mot a Sister 1 

BY A. C. L. 

Am I not a sister, say 1 
Shall I then be bought and sold 

In the mart and by the way, 
For the white man's lust and gold % 

Save me then from his foul snare, 

Leave me not to perish there ! 

Am I not a sister say, 

Though I have a sable hue ! 
Lo ! I have been dragged away, 

From my friends and kindred true, 
And have toiled in yonder field, 
There have long been bruised and peeled ! 

Am I not a sister, say % 

Have 1 an immortal soul 1 
Will you, sisters, tell me nay 1 

Shall I live in lust's control, 
To be chattled like a beast, 
By the Christian church and priest 1 

Am I not a sister, say % 

Though I have been made a slaved 
Will you not then for me pray, 

To the God whose power can save, 
High and low, and bond and free 1 
Toil and pray and vote for me ! 



58 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



YE HERALDS OF FREEDOM. 

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LIEERTY MINSTREL. 59 



The finger of slander may now at you point, 
That finger will soon lose the strength of its joint ; 
And those who now plead for the rights of the slave, 
Will soon be acknowledged the good and the brave. 

Though thrones and dominions, and kingdoms and powers, 
May now all oppose you, the victory is yours • 
The banner of Jesus will soon be unfurled, 
And he will give freedom and peace to the world. 

Go under his standard and fight by his side, 

O'er mountains and billows you'll then safely ride, 

His gracious protection will be to you given, 

And bright crowns of glory he'll give you in heaven. 



I would not live alway. 

By Pierpont. 

I would not live alway; I ask not to stay, 
Where I must bear the burden and heat of the day : 
Where my body is cut with the lash or the cord, 
And a hovel and hunger are all my reward. 

I would not live alway, where life is a load 

To the flesh and the spirit : — since there's an abode 

For the soul disenthralled, let me breathe my last breath, 

And repose in thine arms, my deliverer, Death! — 

I would not live alway to toil as a slave : 

Oh no, let me rest, though I rest in my grave ; 

For there, from their troubling, the wicked shall cease, 

And, free from his master, the slave be at peace. 



60 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



OUR PILGRIM FATHERS. 

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62 LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



The mists that wrapped the Pilgrim's sleep, 

Still brood upon the tide ; 
And his rocks yet keep their watch by the deep, 

To stay its waves of pride. 
Bat the snow-white sail, that she gave to the gale 

When the heavens looked dark, is gone ; 
As an angel's wing, through an opening cloud, 

Is seen, and then withdrawn. 

The Pilgrim exile — sainted name ! 

The hill, whose icy brow 
Rejoiced when he came in the morning's flame, 

In the morning's flame burns now. 
And the moon's cold light, as it lay that night, 

On the hill-side and the sea, 
Still lies where he laid his houseless head; 

But the Pilgrim — where is he % 

The Pilgrim Fathers are at rest ; 

When Summer's throned on high, 
And the world's warm breast is in verdure dressed, 

Go, stand on the hill where they lie. 
The earliest ray of the golden day, 

On that hallowed spot is cast ; 
And the evening sun as he leaves the world, 

Looks kindly on that spot last. 

The Pilgrim spirit has not fled — 

It walks in noon's broad light ; 
And it watches the bed of the glorious dead, 

With the holy stars, by night. 
It watches the bed of the brave who have bled, 

And shall guard this ice-bound shore, 
Till the waves of the bay, where the Mayflower lay, 

Shall foam and freeze no more. 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



63 



STANZAS FOR THE TIMES. 
Words by J. G. Whittier. Music by G. W. C. 




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Is this the land our fa-thers loved. The freedom 

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And shall we crouch above these graves. 
With craven soul and fettered Yipl 

Yoke in with marked and branded slaves. 
And tremble at the driver's whip 1 

Bend to the earth our pliant knees, 

And speak — but as our masters please 1 



Shall outraged Nature cease to feel 1 
Shall Mercy's tears no longer flow 1 

Shall ruffian threats of cord and steel — 
The dungeon's gloom — th' assassin's blow, 

Turn back the spirit roused to save 

The Truth— our Country — and the Slave 1 



Of human skulls that shrine was made, 
Round which the priests of Mexico 

Before their loathsome idol prayed — 
Is Freedom's altar fashioned so 1 

And must we yield to Freedom's God 

As offering meet, the negro's blood % 



Shall tongues be mute, when deeds are wrought 
Which well might shame extremest Hell % 

Shall freemen lock th' indignant thought 1 
Shall Mercy's bosom cease to swell 1 

Shall Honor bleed l— Shall Truth succumb 1 

Shall pen, and press, and soul be dumb 1 



LIBERT r MINSTREL. 



No — by each spot of ha anted ground, 

Where Freedom weeps her children's fall — 
By Plymouth's rock — and Bunker's mound — 
By Griswold's stained and shattered wail — 
By Warren's ghost — by Langdon's shade- 
By all the memories of our dead.! 



By their enlarging souls, which burst 

The bands and fetters round them set- 
By the free Pilgrim spirit nursed 

Within our inmost bosoms, yet, — 
By all above — around — below — 
Be ours the indignant answer — no ! 



No — guided by our country's laws. 
For truth, and right, and suffering man, 

Be ours to strive in Freedom's cause, 
As Christians may — as freemen can I 

Still pouring on unwilling ears 

That truth oppression only fears. 
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66 



LIBERTY MINSTREL 



TO THOSE I LOVE. 

Words by Miss E. M. Chandler. Music from an old air by G. W. C. 





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67 



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I turn to you to share my joy, — to soothe me in my grief— 
In wayward sadness from your smiles, I seek a sweet relief: 
And shall I keep this burning wish to see the slave set free, 
Locked darkly in my secret heart, unshared and silently 7 

If I had been a friendless thing — if I had never known, 
How swell the fountains of the heart beneath afifection's tone, 
I might have, careless, seen the leaf torn rudely from its stem, 
But clinging as I do to you, can I but feel for them 1 

1 could not brook to list the sad sweet music of a bird, 
Though it were sweeter melody than ever ear hath heard, 
If cruel hands had quenched its light, ihat in the plaintive song, 
It might the breathing memory of other days prolong. 

And can I give my lip to taste the life-bought luxuries, wrung 
From those on whom a darker night of anguish has been flung— 
Or silently and selfishly enjoy my better lot, 
While those whom God hath bade me love, are wretched and forgot? 

Oh no ! — so blame me not, sweet friends, though I should some- 
times seem 
Too much to press upon your ear an oft repeated theme ; 
The story of the negro's wrongs hath won me from my rest, — 
And I must strive to wake for him an interest in your breast ! 



LIBERTY MINSTREL 



WE'RE COMING ! WE'RE COMING ! 

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We're coming, we're coming, with banners unfurled, 
Our motto is freedom, our country the world ; 
Our watchword is liberty — tyrants beware 1 
For the liberty army will bring you despair! 
We're coming, we're coming, we'll come from afar, 
Our standard we'll nail to humanity's car; 
With shoutings we'll raise it, in triumph to wave, 
A trophy of conquest, or shroud for the brave. 

Then arouse ye, brave hearts, to the rescue come on ! 

The man-stealing army we'll surely put down ; 

They are crushing their millions, but soon they must yield, 

For freemen have risen and taken the field. 

Then arouse ye ! arouse ye ! the fearless and free, 

Like the winds of the desert, the waves of the sea ; 

Let the north, west, and east, to the sea-beaten shore, 

Resound with a liberty triumph once more. 



70 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



ROUSE UP, NEW ENGLAND. 
Words by a Yankee. Music by G. W. C. 



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71 



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Six slave States added at a breath ! One flourish of a pen, 
And fetters shall be rivited on millions more of men ! 
One drop of ink to sign a name, and slavery shall find 
For all her surplus flesh and blood, a market to her mind ! 

A market where good Democrats their fellow men may sell ! 
O, what a grin of fiendish glee runs round and round thro' hell ! 
How all the damned leap up for joy and half forget their fire, 
To think men take such pains to claim the notice of God's ire. 

Is't not enough that we have borne the, sneer of all the world, 
And bent to those whose haughty lips in scorn of us are curled'? 
Is't not enough that we must hunt their living chattels back, 
And cheer the hungry bloodhounds on, that howl upon their track? 



Is't not enough that we must bow to all that they decree,- 
These cotton and tobacco lords, these pimps of slavery % 



72 LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



That we must yield our conscience up to glut Oppression's maw, 
And break our faith with God to keep the letter of Man's lawl 

But must we sit in silence by, and see the chain and whip 
Made firmer for all time to come in Slavery's bloody grip ! 
Must we not only half the guilt and all the shame endure, 
But help to make our tyrant's throne of flesh and blood secure 1 

Is water running in our veins % Do we remember still 
Old Plymouth rock, and Lexington, and glorious Bunker Hill 1 
The debt we owe our Father's graves'? and to the yet unborn, 
Whose heritage ourselves must make a thing of pride or scorn 1 

Grey Plymouth rock hath yet a tongue, and Concord is not dumb, 
And voices from our father's graves, and from the future come ; 
They call on us to stand our ground, they charge us still to be 
Not only free from chains ourselves, but foremost to make free ! 

Awake, New England ! While you sleep the foes advance their 

lines; 
Already on your stronghold's wall their bloody banner shines; 
Awake ! and hurl them back again in terror and despair, 
The time has come for earnest deeds, we've not a man to spare. 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



73 



RISE, FREEMEN, RISE. 



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In all my wrongs, oppressions, 
woes, 
Dear Lord ! remember me. 

Afflictions sore obstruct my way, 

And ills I cannot flee ; 
Lord! let my strength be as my 
day, 

And still remember me. 

Oppressed with scourges, bonds, 
and grief, 

This feeble body see ; 
Oh ! give my burdened soul relief, 

Hear, and remember me. 



Rise, free the slave ; oh, burst his 

chains, 
" And cast his fetters down ; 
Let virtue be your country's pride. 

Her diadem and crown. 
Then shall the day at length arrive, 

When all shall equal be, 
And Freedom's banner, waving 
high, 

Proclaim that all are free. 

Remember Me. 
O Thou, from whom all goodness 
flows ! 
I lift my heart to thee ; 



74 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



A BEACON HAS BEEN LIGHTED. 
Parody by G. W. C. Air, " Blue -eyed Mary." 



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floods of light all glo - rious, II - lume the mor - al 



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Oppression foul has foundered, 

The demon gasps for breath ; 

His rapid march is downward, 

To everlasting death. 
Old age and youth united, 

His works shall prostrate hurl, 
And soon himself, affrighted, 
Shall hurry from this world. 

Victorious, on, victorious, &c 

Proud liberty untiring, 

Strikes at the monster's heart; 
Beneath her blows expiring, 

He dreads her well-aimed dart. 
Her blows— we'll pray " God speed" them, 

Oppression to despoil ; 
And how we fought for freedom, 

Let future ages tell. 

Victorious, on, victorious, &c. 



76 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



OUR COUNTRYMEN IN CHAINS. 

Words by Whittier. " Beatitude," by T. Hastings. 



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77 



By storied hill and hallow'd grot, 

By mossy wood and marshy glen, 
Whence rang of old the rifle-shot, 

And hurrying shout of Marion's men ! 
The groan of breaking hearts is there— 

The falling lash — the fetter's clank ! 
Slaves — slaves are breathing in that air, 

Which old De Kalb and Sumter drank ! 

What, ho ! — our countrymen in chains ! 

The whip on woman's shrinking flesh ! 
Our soil yet reddening with the stains, 

Caught from her scourging, warm and 
fresh ! 
What ! mothers from their children riven ! 

What! God's own image bought and 
sold! 
Americans to market driven, 

And barter' d as the brute for gold ! 

Speak ! shall their agony of prayer 

Come thrilling to our hearts in vain ? 
To us, whose fathers scorn'd to bear 

The paltry menace of a chain ; 
To us, whose boast is loud and long 

Of holy Liberty and Light — 
Say, shall these writhing slaves of Wrong, 

Plead vainly for their plunder'd Right 1 

Shall every flap of England's flag 

Proclaim that all around are free, 
From " farthest Ind" to each blue crag 

That beetles o'er the Western Sea ? 
And shall we scoff at Europe's kings, 

When Freedom's fire is dim with us, 
And round our country's altar clings 

The damning shade of Slavery's curse? 

Just God ! and shall we calmly rest, 

The Christian's scorn — the Heathen's 
mirth — 
Content to live the lingering jest 

And by-word of a mocking Earth ? 
Shall our own glorious land retain 

That curse which Europe scorns to 
bear? 
Shall our own brethren drag the chain 

Which not even Russia's menials wear? 

Down let the shrine of Moloch sink, 
And leave no traces where it stood ; 



No longer let its idol drink 
His daily cup of human blood : 

But rear another altar there, 
To Truth, and Love, and Mercy given, 

And Freedom's gift, and Freedom's prayer, 
Shall call an answer down from Heaven! 



Myron. Molley. 

BY W. H. BURLEIGH. 

Yes — fame is his : — but not the fame 

For which the conqueror pants and 
strives, 
Whose path is tracked through blood and 
flame, 

And over countless human lives ! 
His name no armed battalions hail 

With bugle shriek or thundering gun — 
No widows curse him, as they wail 

For slaughtered husband and for son- 

Amid the moral strife alone, 

He battled fearlessly and long, 
And poured, with clear, untrembling tone, 

Rebuke upon the hosts of Wrong — 
To break Oppression's cruel rod, 

He dared the perils of the fight, 
And in the name of Freedom's God 

Struck boldly for the True and Right ! 



With faith, whose eye was never dim, 

The triumph, yet afar, he saw, 
When, bonds smote off from soul and limb, 

And freed alike by Love and Law. 
The slave — no more a slave — shall stand 

Erect — and loud, from sea to sea, 
Exultant burst o'er all the land 

The glorious song of jubilee ! 



Why should we mourn, thy labor done, 

That thou art called to thy reward ; 
Rest, Freedom's war-worn champion ! 

Rest, faithful soldier of the Lord ! 
For oh, not vainly hast thou striven, 

Through storm,, and gloom, and deepest 
night — ■ 
Not vainly hath thy life been given 

For God, for Freedom, and for Right. 



7* 



78 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



VOICE OF NEW ENGLAND AGAINST SLAVERY. 
Words by Whittier. Music by G. W. C. 




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It is coming — it is nigh ! 
Stand your homes and altars by ; 
On your own free threshholds die. 
Clang the bells in all your spires ; 
On the gray hills of your sires 
Fling to heaven your signal fires. 

Whoso shrinks or falters now, 
Whoso to the yoke would bow, 
Brand the craven on his brow. 
Freedom's soil hath only place 
For a free and fearless race — 
None for traitors false and base. 

Take your land of sun and bloom ; 
Only leave to Freedom room 
For her plough, and forge, and 

loom. 
Take your slavery-blackened 

vales; 
Leave us but our own free gales, 
Blowing on our thousand sails. 

Onward with your fell design ; 
Dig the gulf and draw the line ; 
Fire beneath your feet the mine : 



Deeply, when the wide abyss 
Yawns between your land and this, 
Shall ye feel your helplessness. 

By the hearth, and in the bed, 
Shaken by a look or tread, 
Ye shall own a guilty dread. 
And the curse of unpaid toil, 
Downward through your generous 

soil, 
Like a fire shall burn and spoil. 

Our bleak hills shall bud and blow, 
Vines our rocks shall overgrow, 
Plenty in our valleys flow ; — 
And when vengeance clouds your 

skies, 
Hither shall ye turn your eyes, 
As the damned on Paradise ! 

We but ask our rocky strand, 
Freedom's true and brother band, 
Freedom's strong and honest hand, 
Valleys by the slave untrod, 
And the Pilgrim's mountain sod, « 
Blessed of our fathers' God ! 



80 



LIBERTY MINSTREL, 



THE CLARION OF FREEDOM. 



Words from the Emancipator. 



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The army — the army have taken the field, 

And the Liberty hosts never, never will yield; 

By free principles strengthened, each bosom now glows. 

And with ardor immortal the struggle they close. 

The armor, the armor that girds every breast, 
Is the hope of deliverance for millions oppressed; 
O'er the tears, and the sighs, and the wrongs of the slave, 
See the white flag of freedom triumphantly wave. 

The conflict — the conflict will shortly be o'er, 
And the demon of slavery shall rule us no more ; 
And the laurels of victory shall surely reward 
The heroes immortal who've conquered for God. 



82 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



STRIKE FOR LIBERTY. 



Words from the Christian Freeman. 



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Ministers of God to men, 
Heed ye not the nation's sin 1 
Heaven's blessing can ye win 

If ye falter now % 
Men of blood now ask your vote, 
O'er your heads their banners float; 
Raise, Oh raise the warning note, 

God and duty call ! 

Men of justice, bold and brave, 
To the ballot-box and save 
Freedom from her opening grave — 

Onward ! brothers, on ! 
Christian patriots, tried and true, 
Freedom's eyes now turn to you; 
Foes are many — are ye few 1 

Gideon's God is yours ! 

On to Victory. 

BY REV. MRS. MARTYN. 

Children of the glorious dead, 
Who for freedom fought and bled, 
With her banner o'er you spread, 

On to victory. 
Not for stern ambition's prize, 
Do our hopes and wishes rise ; 
Lo, pur leader from the skies, 

Bids us do or die. 



Ours is not the tented field — 
We no earthly weapons wield — 
Light and love, our sword and 
shield, 

Truth our panoply. 
This is proud oppression's hour ; 
Storms are round us; shall we 

cower 1 
While beneath a despot's power 

Groans the suffering slave 1 

While on every southern gale, 
Comes the helpless captive's tale, 
And the voice of woman's wail, 

And of man's despair % 
While our homes and rights are 

dear, 
Guarded still with watchful fear, 
Shall we coldly turn our ear 

From the suppliant's prayer? 

Never ! by our Country's shame — 
Never ! by a Saviour's claim, 
To the men of every name, 

Whom he died to save. 
Onward, then, ye fearless band — 
Heart to heart, and hand to hand ; 
Yours shall be the patriot's stand — ■ 

Or the martyr's grave. 



84 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



THE MAN FOR ME. 



Parody by J. N. T. Tucker. 



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He's not at all the man for me, 

Who sells a man for gain, 
Who bends the pliant servile knee, 

To Slavery's God of shame ! 
But he whose God-like form erect 

Proclaims that all alike are free 
To think, and speak, and vote, and act, 

Oh that's the man for me. 

He sure is not the man for rue 
Whose spirit will succumb, 

When men endowed with Liberty- 
Lie bleeding, bound and dumb ; 

But he whose faithful words of might 
Ring through the land from shore to sea, 

For man's eternal equal right, 
Oh that's the man for me. 



No, no, he's not the man for me 

Whose voice o'er hill and plain, 
Breaks forth for glorious liberty, 

But binds himself, the chain ! 
The mightiest of the noble band 

Who prays and toils the world to free, 
With head, and heart, and voice, and vote - 

Oh that's the man for me. 
8 



86 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



PILGRIM SONG. 



Words by Geo. Lunt. 



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England hath sunny dales, 

Dearly they bloom ; 
Scotia hath heather-hills, 

Sweet their perfume : 
Yet through the wilderness 

Cheerful we stray, 
Native land, native land — 

Home far away ! 
Pilgrims, &c. 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



87 



Dim grew the forest path, 

Onward they trod : 
Firm beat their noble hearts, 

Trusting in God ! 
Gray men and blooming maids, 

High rose their song — 
Hear it sweep, clear and deep 

Ever along ! 

Pilgrims, &c. 

Not their 's the glory- wreath, 

Torn by the blast ; 
Heavenward their holy steps, 

Heavenward they passed ! 
Green be their mossy graves ! 

Ours be their fame, 
While their song peals along, 

Ever the same ! 
Pilgrims, &c. 

The Bondman* 

FROM THE LIBERATOR. 

Feebly the bondman toiled, 

Sadly he wept — 
Then to his wretched cot 

Mournfully crept : 
How doth his free-born soul 

Pine 'neath his chain ! 



Slavery ! Slavery ! 
Dark is thy reign. 

Long ere the break of day, 

Roused from repose, 
Wearily toiling 

Till after its close — 
Praying for freedom, 

He spends his last breath: 
Liberty ! Liberty ! 

Give me, or death. 

When, when, oh Lord ! will right 

Triumph o'er wrong 1 
Tyrants oppress the weak, 

Oh Lord ! how long 1 
Hark ! hark ! a peal resounds 

From shore to shore — 
Tyranny ! Tyranny I 

Thy reign is o'er. 

E'en now the morning 

Gleams from the East — 
Despots are feeling 

Their triumph is past—- 
Strong hearts are answering 

To freedom's loud call- 
Liberty ! Liberty ! 

Full and for alL 



88 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



FOURTH OF JULY. 
Words by Mrs. Sigourney. Music by G. W. C. 




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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 89 



Suns bless oar harvests fair. 

With fervid smile serene, 
But a dark shade is gathering there, 

What can its blackness mean 1 

We have a birth-right proud, 
For our young sons to claim— 

An eagle soaring o'er the cloud, 
In freedom and in fame. 

We have a scutcheon bright, 
By our dead fathers bought ; 

A fearful blot distains its white — 
Who hath such evil wrought 1 

Our banner o'er the sea 

Looks forth with starry eye, 

Emblazoned glorious, bold and free, 
A letter on the sky — 

What hand with shameful stain, 
Hath marred its heavenly blue 1 

The yoke, the fasces, and the chain, 
Say, are these emblems true 1 

This day doth music rare 

Swell through our nation's bound, 
But Afric's wailing mingles there, 

And Heaven doth hear the sound.- 

O God of power! we turn 

In penitence to thee, 
Bid oar loved land the lesson learn — 

To bid the slave be free. 



8* 



90 



LIBERTY MINSTREL 



YE SPIRITS OF THE FREE. 

Air—" My faith looks up to thee." 
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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 91 



Shall he a slave be bound, 
Whom God hath doubly crowned 

Creation's lord 1 
Shall men of Christian name, 
Without a blush of shame, 
Profess their tyrant claim 

From God's own word % 

No ! at the battle cry, 
A host prepared to die, 

Shall arm for fight — 
But not with martial steel, 
Grasped with a murderous zeal; 
No arms their foes shall feel, 

But love and light. 

Firm on Jehovah's laws, 
Strong in their righteous cause, 

They march to save. 
And vain the tyrant's mail, 
Against their battle-hail, 
Till cease the woe and wail 

Of tortured slave ! 



Sing* Me a Triumph Song*. 

Sing me a triumph song, 
Roll the glad notes along, 

Great God, to thee ! 
Thine be the glory bright, 
Source of all power and might ! 
For thou hast said, in might, 

Man shall be free. 

Sing me a triumph song, 
Let all the sound prolong, 

Air, earth, and sea, 
Down falls the tyrant's power, 
See his dread minions cower ; 
Now, from this glorious hour, 

Man will be free. 

Sing me a triumph song, 
Sing in the mighty throng, 

Sing Jubilee ! 
Let the broad welkin ring, 
While to heaven's mighty King, 
Honor and praise we sing, 

For man is free. 



92 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



WAKE, SONS OF THE PILGRIMS, 



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for - ests shall wave or while rush-es a riv- er, Oh, 

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yield not your birth-right ! maintain it for ev - er! 

Wake, Sons of the Pilgrims ! why slumber ye onl 
Your chains are now forging, your fetters are done ; 
Oh ! sleep not, like Samson, on Slavery's foul arm, 
For, Delilah-like, she's now planning your harm. 
Then halloo, halloo, halloo, to the contest ! 
Awake from your sleeping— nor slumber again, 
Once bound in your fetters, you'll struggle in vain ; 
Then rally, rally, rally, rally, rally, rally- 
While your eye-balls may move, O wake up now, or never—* 
Wake, freemen ! awake, or you're ruined forever ! 

Yes, freemen are waking ! we fling to the breeze, 
The bright flag of freedom, the banner of Peace ; 
The slave long forgotten, forlorn, and alone, 
We hail as a brother— our own mother's son ! 
Then halloo, halloo, halloo, to the contest ! 
For freedom we rally — for freedom to all — 
To rescue the slave, and ourselves too from thrall. 
We rally, rally, rally, rally, rally, rally- 
While a slave shall remain, bound, the weak by the stronger^ 
We will never disband, but strive harder and longer. 



94 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



OUR COUNTRYMEN ARE DYING. 

Words by C. W. Dennison. Tune — " From Greenland's Icy Mountains." 



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Where proud Potomac dashes 

Along its northern strand, 
Where Rappahannock lashes 

Virginia's sparkling sand ; 
Where Eutaw, famed in story, 

Flows swifc to Santee's stream, 
There, there in grief and gory, 

The pining slave is seen ! 

And shall New England's daugh- 
ters, 

Descendants of the free, 
Beside whose far-famed waters 

Is heard sweet minstrelsy — 
Shall they, when hearts are break- 
ing, 

And woman weeps in woe, 
Shall they, all listless waiting, 

No hearts of pity show. 

No ! let the shout for freedom 

Ring out a certain peal, 
Let sire and youthful maiden, 

All who have hearts to feel, 
Awake ! and with the blessing 

Of Him who came to save, 
A holy, peaceful triumph, 

Shall greet the kneeling slave ! 

"We ask mot Martial Glory. 

We ask not " martial glory," 
Nor " battles bravely won;" 



We tell no boastful story 

To laud our " favorite son j" 
We do not seek to gather 

From glory's field of blood, 
The laurels of the warrior, 

Steeped in the crimson flood- 
But we can boast that Birney 

Holds not the tyrant's rod, 
Nor binds in chains and fetters, 

The image of his God ; 
No vassal, at his bidding, 

Is doomed the lash to feel ; 
No menial crouches near him, 

No Charley's* at his heel. 

His heart is free from murder, 

His hand without its stain j 
His head and heart united, 

To loose the bondman's chain : 
His deeds of noble daring, 

Shall make the tyrant cower j 
Oppression flees before him, 

With all its boasted power. 

Soon shall the voice of freedom, 

O'er earth its echoes roll— 
And earth's rejoicing millions 

Be free, from pole to pole. 
Then rally round your leader, 

Ye friends of liberty ; 
And let the shout for Birney, 

Ring out o'er land and sea. 



* Clay's body servant. 



96 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



COME, JOIN THE ABOLITIONISTS. 

Air — " When I can read my title clear." 




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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



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of-f 'rings bring, When Slav'ry is no more. ' 



Come, join the Abolitionists, 

Ye dames and maidens fair ; 
And breathe around us in our path, 

Affection's hallowed air. 
O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful, 
O that will be joyful, 
When woman cheers us on, 
When woman cheers us on, 
When woman cheers us on, 
To conquests not yet won ; 
'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings 

bring, 
"When worn a *» cheers as on. 



Come, join the Abolitionists, 
Ye sons and daughters all ; 

Of this our own America, 
Come at the friendly call. 

O that will be joyful, joyful, 

O that will be joyful, 

When all shall proudly say, 

This, this is Freedom's day, 

Oppression flee away ! 

'Tis then we'll sing and offerings 
bring, 

When Freedom wins the day. 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



99 



WE ARE COME, ALL COME. 



By G. W. C. 




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hill and plain, Spreads grief and woe in his hor - rid train. 



We are come, all come, a determined band, 

To rescue the slave from the tyrants hand ; 

And our prayers shall ascend with our songs to Him 

Who sits in the midst of the cherubim. 

We are come, all come, in the strength of youth, 
In the light of hope and the power of truth ; 
And we joy to see in our ranks to-day, 
The honored locks of the good and grey. 

We are come, all come, in our holy might 
And freedom's foes shall be put to flight • 
Oh God ! with favoring smiles from thee, 
Our songs shall soon chant the victory. 



100 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



THE LAW OP LOVE. 

Words by a Lady. Music by G. W. C. 



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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



101 



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He spreads his kind supporting arms, 

To every child of grief; 
His secret bounty largely flows, 

And brings unasked relief. 

To gentle offices of love 

His feet are never slow ; 
He views, through mercy's melting eye, 

A brother in his foe. 

To him protection shall be shown, 

And mercy from above 
Descend on those, who thus fulfil 

The perfect law of love. 

Ola! CUaarity! 

Oh charity ! thou heavenly grace, 

All tender, soft, and kind, 
A friend to all the human race, 

To all that's good inclined. 

The man of charity extends 

To all his helping hand ; 
His kindred, neighbors, foes, and friends, 

His pity may command. 

The sick, the prisoner, deaf, and blind, 

And all the sons of grief, 
In him a benefactor find ; 

He loves to give relief. 

'Tis love that makes religion sweet 
'Tis love that makes us rise, 

With willing mind.-, and ardent feet t 
To von der happy skies. 



102 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



THE MERCY SEAT. 
Words by Mrs. Sigourney. Music by G. W. C. 



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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



103 




There is a spot where spirits blend, 
Where friend holds fellowship with friend ; 
Though sundered far, by faith we meet, 
Around one common Mercy-Seat. 

Ah ! whither could we flee for aid, 

"When hunted, scourged, oppressed, dismayed,- 

Or how our bloody foes defeat, 

Had suffering slaves no Mercy-Seat ! 

Oh! let these hands forget their skill, 
These tongues be silent, cold, and still, 
These throbbing hearts forget to beat, 
If we forget the" Mercy-Seat. 

Friend of the Friendless. 

God of my life ! to thee I call, 
Afflicted at thy feet I fall ; 
When the great water-floods prevail, 
Leave not my trembling heart to fail. 

Friend of the friendless and the faint ! 
Where should I lodge my deep complaint 1 
Where but with thee, whose open door 
Invites the helpless and the poor % 

Did ever mourner plead with thee, 
And thou refuse that mourner's plea'? 
Does not thy word still fixed remain, 
That none shall seek thy face in vain 1 

Poor though I am, despised, forgot, 
Yet God, my God forgets me not ; 
And he is safe, he must succeed, 
For whom the Lord vouchsafes to plead. 



104 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



WAKE YE NUMBERS ! 
Words by Lewis. Air, " Strike the Cymbals." 



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Flags are wav-ing, 



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all ty - rants brav-ing, 



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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



105 



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LIBERTY MINSTREL, 




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ere the morrow Change their aching hearts to stone : Then the 
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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



107 




Daily, nightly, burning brightly, 

Glory's pillar fills the air ; 
Hearts are waking, chains are breaking, 

Freedom bids her sons prepare : 
O'er the ocean, in proud devotion, 

Incense rises to the skies ; 
From our mountains, o'er our fountains, 

See, oar Eagle proudly flies ! 
What deploring impedes his soaring 1 

Millions still in bondage sighing t 

Long in deep oppression lying ! 
Shall their story mar oar glory 1 

Must their life in sorrow flow 1 
Tears are falling ! fetters galling ! 

Listen to the cry of woe ! 
Still oppressing ! never blessing ! 

Shall their grief no ending know? 
Yes ! our nation yet shall feel ; 
Time shall break the chain of steel \ 
Then the slave shall nobly stand; 
Peace shall smile with lustre bland; 
Glory shall crown our happy land- 
Forever. 



10S 



LIBERTY MINSTREL, 



COMFORT FOR THE BONDMAN. 

Air — " Indian Philosopher." 






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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 109 



Beyond the bounds of time and space, 
Look forward to that heavenly place, 

Which mortals never trod; 
On faith's strong eagle pinions rise, 
Work out your passage to the skies, 

And scale the mount of God. 

If, like oar Lord, we suffer here, 
We shall before his face appear. 

And at his side sit down ; 
To patient faith the prize is sure, 
For all who to the end endure 

Shall wear a glorious crown. 

Thrice blessed, exalted, blissful hope ! 
It lifts our fainting spirits up., 

It brings to life the dead ; 
Our bondage here will soon be past, 
Then we shall rise and reign at lastj 

Triumphant with our Head. 

Come aiad see tSie Works of <*oct» 

Lift up to God the shout of joy, 
Let all the earth its powers employ, 

To sound his glorious praise ; 
Say, unto God — " How great art thou I 
Thy foes before thy presence bow ! 

How gracious are thy ways I" 

To thee all lands their homage bring, 
They raise the song, they shout, they sing 

The honors of thy name." 
Come ! see the wondrous works of God ; 
How dreadful is his vengeful rod ! 

How wide extends his fame ! 

He made a highway through the sea, 
His people, long-enslaved, to free, 

And give them Canaan's land ; 
Through endless years his reign extends, 
His piercing eye to earth he bends — 

Ye despots ! fear his hand. 

O ! bless our God, lift up your voice 
Ye people ! sing aloud — rejoice — 

His mighty praise declare ; 
The Lord hath made our bondage cease, 
Broke off our chains, brought sure release, 

And turned to praise our prayer. 
10 



110 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



HARK ! A VOICE FROM HEAVEN. 
Words by Oliver Johnson. 




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See, the light of truth is breaking 
Full and clear on every hand; 

And the voice of mercy speaking, 
Now is heard through all the land : 

Firm and fearless, 
See the friends of freedom stand, 

Lo ! the nation is arousing 
From its slumber long and deep ; 

And the friends of God are waking, 
Never, never more to sleep, 

While a bondman, 
In his chains remains to weep. 

Long, too long, have we been dreaming 
O'er our country's sin and shame : 

Let us now, the time redeeming, 
Press the helpless captive's claim- 
Till exulting, 
He shall cast aside his chain. 



112 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



THE PLEASANT LAND WE LOVE. 
Words by N. P. Willis. Air, Carrier Dove. 



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114 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



And we are free— but is there not 

One blot upon our name 1 
Is our proud record written fair 

Upon the scroll of fame 1 
Our banner floateth by the shore, 

Our flag upon the sea ; 
But when the fettered slave is loosed, 

We shall be truly free ! 



The Freed Slave. 

Yet once again, once more again, 
My bark bounds o'er the wave ; 
They know not, who ne'er clanked the 
chain, 
What 'tis to be a slave : 
* To sit alone, beside the wood, 
And gaze upon the sky : 
This may, indeed, be solitude, 
But 'tis not slavery. 

Fatigued with labor's noontide task, 

To sigh in vain for sleep ; 
Or faintly smile, our griefs to mask, 

When 't would be joy to weep ; 
To court the shade of leafy bower, 

Thirst for the freeborn wave, 
But to obtain denied the power — 

This is to be a slave ! 

Bon of the sword ! on honor's field 

'Tis thine to find a grave ; 
Yet, when from life's worst ill 'twould 
shield, 

It comes not to the slave. 
The lightsome to the heavy heart, 

The laugh changed to the sigh ; 



To live from all we love apart — 
Oh ! this is slavery. 



The liberty Flag-. 

ALTERED FROM J. H. AIRMAN. 

Fling abroad its folds to the cooling breeze, 

Let it float at the mast-head high ; 
And gather around, all hearts resolved, 

To sustain it there or die : 
An emblem of peace and hope to the 
world, 

Unstained let it ever be ; 
And say to the world, where'er it waves, 

Our flag is the flag of the free ! * 

That banner proclaims to the list'ning 
earth, 
That the reign of base tyrants is o'er, 
The galling chain of the cruel lord, 
Shall enslave mankind no more : 
An emblem of hope to the poor and 
crushed, 
O place it where all may see ; 
And shout with glad voice as you raise it 
high, 
Our flag is the flag of the free ! 

Then on high, on high let that banner 
wave, 

And lead us the foe to meet, 
Let it float in triumph o'er our heads, 

Or be our winding sheet : 
And never, oh, never be it furled, 

'Till it wave o'er earth and sea ; 
And all mankind shall swell the shout 

Our flag is the flag of the free. 



LIBERTY MINSTKEL. 



115 



MARCH TO THE BATTLEFIELD. 

Parody by G. W. C. Air " Oft in the stilly night." 







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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 117 



"Who for his country brave, 

Would fly from her invader % 
Who his base life to save 

Would traitor like degrade her 1 
Our hallowed cause — 

Our homes and laws, 
'Gainst tyrant hosts sustaining, 

We'll win a crown of bright renown, 
Or die, man's rights maintaining, 
March to the battlefield, &c. 



Oft in the Chilly Night. 

BY PIERPONT. 

Oft in the chilly night, 

Ere slumber's chain has bound me, 
When all her silvery light 

The moon is pouring round me, 
Beneath its ray I kneel and pray 

That God would give some token 
That slavery's chains on Southern plains, 

Shall all ere long be broken : 
Yes, in the chilly night, 

Though slavery's chain has bound me, 
Kneel I, and feel the might 

Of God's right arm around me. 

When at the driver's call, 

In cold or sultry weather, 
We slaves, both great and small, 

Turn out to toil together, 
I feel like one from whom the sun 

Of hope has long departed ; 
And morning's light, and weary night, 

Still find me broken hearted : 
Thus, when the chilly breath 

Of night is sighing round me, 
Kneel I, and wish that death 

In his cold chain had bound me. 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



SONG OF THE FREE. 
Parodied by G. W. C. Tune, Lutzow's Wild Hunt. 




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120 LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



And who through our nation is waging the fight 1 
What host from the battle is flying ? 

Our true hearted freemen maintain the right, 
And the monster oppression is dying. 
And the monster oppression is dying : 

And if you ask what you there behold V 

J Tis the army of freemen, the true and the bold. 

Too long have slave-holders triumphantly reigned, 
Too long in their chains have they bound us ; 

To freedom awaking, no longer enchained, 
The goddess of freedom has saved us, 
The goddess of freedom has saved us : 

And if you ask what has made us free 1 

? Tis the vote that gave us our liberty. 



Holy Freedom* 

BY PIERPONT. 

The bondmen are free in the isles of the main ! 

The chains from their limbs they are flinging ! 
They stand up as men ! — never tyrant again, 

In the pride of his heart, shall God's image profane ! 
It is Liberty's song that is ringing ! 
Hark ! loud comes the cry o'er the bounding sea, 

" Freedom ! Freedom ! Freedom, our joy is in thee !" 

Alas! that to-day, on Columbia's shore, 

The groans of her slaves are resounding ! 
On plains of the South their life-blood they pour ! 
O, Freemen ! blest Freemen ! your help they implore ! 

It is Slavery's wail that is sounding ! 
Hark ! loud comes the cry on the Southern gale, 
" Freedom ! Freedom Freedom or death must prevail I" 

O ye who are blest with fair Liberty's light, 

"With courage and hope all abounding, 
With weapons of love be ye bold for the right ! 
By the preaching of truth put oppression to flight ! 
Then, your altars triumphant surrounding, 
Loud, loud let the anthem of joy ring out ! 
" Freedom ! Freedom !" list all the world to the shout ! 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



121 



YE SONS OF FREEMEN. 

Words by Mrs. J. G. Carter. Air, " Marseilles Hymn.'* 



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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 125 



The fearful storm— -it threatens lowering, 

Which God in mercy long delays; 
Slaves yet may see their masters cowering, 
While whole plantations smoke and blaze ! 
While whole plantations smoke and blaze ! 
And we may now prevent the ruin, 
Ere lawless force with guilty stride 
Shall scatter vengeance far and wide — 
With untold crimes their hands embruing. 
Have pity on the slave ; 
Take courage from God's word ; 
Pray on, pray on, all hearts resolved — these captives shall be free! 

With luxury and wealth surrounded, 
The southern masters proudly dare, 
With thirst of gold and power unbounded, 
To mete and vend God's light and air ! 
To mete and vend God's light and air; 
Like beasts of burden, slaves are loaded, 
Till life's poor toilsome day is o'er ; 
While they in vain for right implore ; 
And shall the^y longer still be goaded 1 
Have pity on the slave ; 
Take courage from God's word; 
Toil on, toil on, all hearts resolved these calves shall be free. 

O Liberty ! can man e'er bind thee? 
Can overseers quench thy flame % 
Can dungeons, bolts, or bars confine thee, 
Or threats thy Heaven born spirit tame 1 
Or threats thy Heaven born spirii tame 1 
Too long the slave has groaned bewailing 
The power these heartless tyrants wield; 
Yet free them not by sword or shield, 
For with men's heart's they're unavailing, 
Have pity on the slave : 
Take courage from God's word ; 
Vote on ! vote on ! all hearts resolved— these captives shall be free! 



!!• 



126 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



ARE YE TRULY FREE'* 

Words by J. R. Lowell. Air, " Martyn." 




Men ! whose boast it is that ye Come of fa - thers 
If there breathe on earth a slave, Are ye tru - ly 



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Women ! who shall one day bear 
Sons to breathe God's bounteous air, 
If ye hear without a blush, 
Deeds to make the roused blood rush 
Like red lava through your veins, 
For your sisters now in chains ; 
Answer ! are ye fit to be 
Mothers of the brave and free ? 



LIBERTY MINSTREL, 127 



Is true freedom but to break 
Fetters for our own dear sake, 
And, with ]eathern hearts forget 
That we owe mankind a debt 1 
No ! true freedom is to share 
All the chains our brothers wear, 
And with hand and heart to be 
Earnest to make others free. 

They are slaves who fear to speak 
For the fallen and the weak ; 
They are slaves, who will not choose 
Hatred, scoffing, and abuse, 
Rather than, in silence, shrink 
From the truth they needs must thmk ; 
They are slaves, who dare not be 
In the right with two or three. 

Tii.sit 9 § nay Country* 

Does the land, in native might, 
Pant for Liberty and Right % 
Long to cast from human kind 
Chains of body and of mind — 
That's my country, that's the land 
I can love with heart and hand, 
O'er her miseries weep and sigh, 
For her glory live and die. 

Does the land her banner wave, 
Most invitingly, to save ; 
Woing to her arms of love, 
Strangers who would freemen prove 1 
That's the land to which I cling, 
Of her glories I can sing, 
On her altar nobly swear 
Higher still her fame to rear. 

Does the land no conquest make, 
But the war for honor's sake — 
Count the greatest triumph won, 
That which most of good has done — 
That's the land approved of God; 
That's the land whose stainless sod 
O'er my sleeping dust shall bloom. 
Noblest land and noblest tomb ' 



128 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



LIBERTY BATTLE-SONG. 

From " The Emancipator." Air—" Our Warrior's Heart." 



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Awake, and couch Truth's fatal 
dart, 

Awake ! awake I awake ! 
Bid error to the shades depart, 

Awake I awake ! awake ! 
Prepare to deal the deadly blow, 
To lay the power of Slavery low, 
A ballot, lads, is our veto ; 

Awake! awake! awake! 



Arise ! ye sons of honest toil, 

Arise ! arise ! arise ! 
Ye freeborn tillers of the soil, 

Arise ! arise ! arise ! 
Come from your workshops and 

the field, 
We've sworn to conquer ere we'll 

yield ; 
The ballot-box is Freedom's shield, 

Arise ! arise ! arise ! 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



129 



Unite, and strike for equal laws. 

Unite ! unite ! unite ! 
For equal Justice ! that's our cause, 

Unite ! unite ! unite ! 
Shall the vile slavites win the day % 
Shall men of whips and blood bear 

sway 1 
Unite, and dash their chains away, 

Unite ! unite ! unite ! , 

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March on ! and vote the hirelings 

down, 

March on! march on ! march onl 

Our blighted land with blessings 

crown, 

March on! march on! march on ! 

Shall Manhood ever wear the 

chain % 



In spite of whig or loco don, 
Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! 
Our country still has hopes to rise, 
The bravest efforts win toe prize, 
Hurrah ! &c. 

With joy elate our friends appear, 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
Our vaunting foes are filled with 
I fear, 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
Ten thousand slaves have run 

away 
From Georgia to Canada ; 
Hurrah ! &c. 

Lo ! all the world for Birney now, 
Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 



Shall Freedom look to us in vain 1 | See ! as he comes the parties bow, 



Up to the struggle ! Strike again 
March on! march on! march on ! 

Hurrah ! the word pass down the 
line, 
Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
Birney's and Morris' name shall 
shine, 
Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
Like comets, on their country's 

P age > 
Without a cloud, un dimmed by age, 

Revered by patriot and by sage ; 

Hurrah ! hurrah .' hurrah ! 



Birney and. Liberty* 

Hurrah ! the ball is rolling on, 
Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 



Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
No iron mixed with miry clay, 
Will ever do, the people say, 
Hurrah ! &c. 

Then up, ye hearties, one and all! 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
Be faithful to your country's call ; 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
Let none the vote of freedom shun, 
Run to the meeting — run, run, run ! 

Hurrah, &c. 



Be Birney's name the one 
choose, 
Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
Let not a soul his ballot lose, 
Hurrah ! hurrah i hurrah ! 
No other man in this our day 
Will ever do, the people say : 
Hurrah ! &c. 



you 



130 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 




THE BALLOT-BOX, 

Air— from "Lincoln." 



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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



131 




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glorious form appeared, 'Midst our own Green Mountain home. 




bartered right for gold, Here, on Freedom's sacred soih 

Let your eagle's quenchless eye, 

Fixed, unerring, sleepless, bright, 
Watch, when danger hovers nigh, 

From his lofty mountain height ; 
While the stripes and. stars shall wave 

O'er this treasure, pure and free— 
; The land's Palladium, it shall save 

The home and shrine of liberty. 

Christian Mother. 

BY MISS C. 

Christian mother^ when thy prayer, 
Trembles on the twilight air, 
And thou askest God to keep 
In their waking and their sleep, 
Those, whose love is more to thee 
Than the wealth of land or sea — 
Think of those who wildly mourn 
For the loved ones from them torn. 

Christian daughter, sister, wife, 
Ye who wear a guarded life, 
Ye, whose bliss hangs not, thank God, 
On a tyrant's word or nod, 
Will ye hear, with careless eye, 
Of the wild, despairing cry, 
Rising up from human hearts, 
As their latest bliss departs. 

Blest ones, whom no hands on earth, 
Dare to wrench from home and hearth, 
Ye, whose hearts are sheltered well, 
By affection's holy spell ; 
Oh, forget not those for whom 
Life is nought but changeless gloom ! 
O'er whose days, so woe-begone, 
Hope may pMnt no brighter dawn. 



132 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



THE LIBERTY PARTY. 

Words by E. Wright, jr. Tune— " 'Tis Dawn, the Lark is Singing." 



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LIBERTY MINSTREL, 



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floods 5 the sea is thirst - ing, To drink you like the dew. 

That crescent, faint and trembling, 

Her lamp shall nightly trim, 
Till thou, imperious planet, 

Shall in her light grow dim ; 
And so shall wax the Party, 

Now feeble at its birth, 
Till Liberty shall cover 

This tyrant trodden earth. 

That party, as we term it, 

The Party of the Whole- 
Has for its firm foundation, 

The substance of the soul ; 
It groweth out of Reason, 

The strongest soil below ; 
The smaller is its budding, 

The more its room to grow ! 

Then rally to its banners, 

Supported by the true — 
The weakest are the waning, 

The many are the few : 
Of what is small, but living, 

God makes himself the nurse ; 
While " Onward" cry the voices 

Of all his universe. 



Our plant is of the cedar, 

That knoweth not decay : 
Its growth shall bless the mountains, 

Till mountains pass away. 
God speed the infant party, 

The party of the whole — 
And surely he will do it, 

While reason is its soul. 
12 



134 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



BE FREE, O MAN, BE FREE. 
Words by Mary II. Maxwell. Music by G. W. C. 




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135 



Behold the sea-brine leaping 
High in the murky air; 

List to the tempest sweeping 
In chainless fury there. 

What moves the mighty torrent, 
And bids it flow abroad 1 

Or turns the rapid current 1 

What, but the voice of God 1 

Then, answer, is the spirit 

Less noble or less free 1 
From whom does it inherit 

The doom of slavery % 
When man can bind the waters, 

That they no longer roll, 
Then let him forge the fetters 

To clog the human soul. 

Till then a voice is stealing 

From earth and sea, and sky, 
And to the soul revealing 

Its immortality. 
The swift wind chants the numbers 

Careering o'er the sea, 
And earth aroused from slumbers, 

Re-echoes, " Man, be free." 

Arouse ! Arouse ! 

Arouse, arouse, arouse ! 

Ye bcld New England men ! 
No more with sullen brows, 

Remain as ye have been : 



Your country's freedom calls, 
Once bought by patriots' blood ; 

Rouse, or that freedom falls 
Beneath the tyrant's rod ! 

Three million men in chains, 

Your friendly aid implore ; 
Slight you the piteous strains 

That from their bosoms pour 1 
Shall it be told in story, 

Or trolPd in burning song, 
New England's boasted glory 

Forgot the bondman's wrong 1 

Shall freeman's sons be taunted> 

That freedom's spirit's fled ; 
That what the fathers vaunted, 

With sordid sons is dead 1 
That they in grovelling gain 

Have lost their ancient fire, 
And 'neath the despot's chain, 

Let liberty expire % 

Oh no, your father's bones 

Would cry out from the ground ; 
Ay, e'en New England's stones 

Would echo on the sound : 
Rouse, then, New England men ! 

Rally in freedom's name ! 
In your bosoms once again 

Light up the sleeping flame ! 



136 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



THE LAST NIGHT OF SLAVERY. 



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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 137 



Let the islands be glad ! 

For their King in his might, 
Who his glory hath clad 
With a garment of light, 
In the waters the beams of his chambers hath laid, 
And in the green waters his pathway hath made. 



No more shall the deep, 

Lend its awe-stricken waves, 
In their caverns to steep 
Its wild burden of slaves ; 
The Lord sitteth King — sitteth King on the flood, 
He heard, and hath answered the voice of their blood. 



Dispel the blue haze, 

Golden fountain of morn ! 
With meridian blaze 
The wide ocean adorn : 
The sunlight has touched the glad waves of the sea, 
And day now illumines the land of the free. 



138 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



THE LITTLE SLAVE GIRL. 

Words by a Lady. Air — Morgiana in Ireland. 



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Thoughts of home keep coming over me ; 
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Yet mother hears not — no one pities me— 

Never smiling, sick, forlorn, 
Oh that \ had ne'er been born ! 
I should not sorrow to die to-morrow, 
Then mother earth would kindly shelter me ; 

Children try it, could you try it ! 
Give me freedom, yes, from misery ! 

Children try it, try it, try it ! 
Come, come, give me Liberty ! 



140 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



STOLEN WE WERE. 

Words by a Colored Man. 



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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 141 



Like the brute beast in public street, 
Endure the cold and stand the heat ; 
King Jesus told you once before 
To go your way and sin no more j 
Sinner ! man ! &c. 

If e'er I reach the Northern shore, 
I'll ne'er go back, no, never more ; 
I think I hear these ladies say, 
We'll sing for Freedom night and day ; 
Sinner ! man ! &c. 

Now let us all, yes, every man, 
Vote for the Slave, for now we can ; 
Break every chain and every yoke, 
Vote not for Clay nor James K. Polk ; 
Sinner ! man ! &c. 

Come let us go for James G. Birney, 
Who sells not flesh and blood for money j 
He is the man you all can see, 
Who gave his slaves their liberty ; 
Sinner ! man ! &c. 

We hail thee as an honest Man, 
God made thee on his noblest plan ; 
To stand for freedom in that hour, 
To thrust a blow at Slavery's power; 
Sinner ! man ! &c. 



142 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



Words by Crary. 



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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



143 



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" Where are you from?" the fiend de- 
mands, 

" What makes you look so frantic 7 
Are you from Carolina's strand, 

Just west of the Atlantic 1 
"Are you that man of blood and birth, 

Devoid of human feeling % 
The wretch I saw, when last on earth, 

In human cattle dealing 1 

"Whose soul, with blood and rapine 
stain'd, 

With deeds of crime to dark it ; 
Who drove God's image, starved and 
chained, 

To sell like beasts in market ? 
" Who tore the infant from the breast, 

That you might sell its mother 1 
Whose craving mind could never rest, 

Till you had sold a brother 1 

" Who gave the sacrament to those 

Whose chains and handcuffs rattle 1 
Whose backs soon after felt the blows, 

More heavy than thy cattle?" 
" I'm from the South," the ghost replies, 

" And I was there a teacher ; 
Saw men in chains, with laughing eyes : 

I was a Southern Preacher ! 

"In tasselled pulpits, gay and fine, 
I strove to please the tyrants, 

To prove that slavery is divine, 
And what the Scripture warrants. 



" And when I saw the horrid sight, 

Of slaves by tortures dying, 
And told their masters all was right, 

I knew that I was lying. 

" I knew all this, and who can doubt, 

I felt a sad misgiving ? 
But still, I knew, if I spoke out, 

That I should lose my living. 
" They made me fat, they paid me well, 

To preach down abolition, 
I slept — I died — I woke in Hell, 

How altered my condition ! 

" I now am in a sea of fire, 

Whose fury ever rages ; 
I am a slave, and can't get free, 

Through everlasting ages. 
" Yes ! when the sun and moon shall fade, 

And fire the rocks dissever, 
I must sink down beneath the shade, 

And feel God's wrath for ever. 



Our Ghost stood trembling all 
while — 

He saw the scene transpiring ; 
With soul aghast and visage sad, 

All hope was now retiring. 
The Demon cried, on vengence bent, 

" I say, in haste, retire ! 
And you shall have a negro sent 

To attend and punch the fire." 



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144 



LIBERTY MINSTREL, 



GET OFF THE TRACK. 

Words by Jesse Hutchinson. Air, " Dan Tucker.' 



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Men of various predilections, 
Frightened, run in all directions; 
Merchants, editors, physicians, 
Lawyers, priests, and politicians. 

Get out of the way ! every station I 
Clear the track of 'mancipation ! 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 145 



Let the ministers and churches 
Leave behind sectarian lurches ; 
Jump on board the Car of Freedom, 
Ere it be too late to need them. 

Sound the alarm ! Pulpits thunder ! 

Ere too late you see your blunder ! 

Politicians gazed, astounded. 

When, at first, our bell resounded ; 

Freight trains are coming, tell these foxes s 

With our votes and ballot boxes. 

Jump for your lives ! politicians, 
From your dangerous, false positions* 

Railroads to Emancipation 

Cannot rest on Clay foundation. 

And the tracks of * The Polk-itiatf 

Are but railroads to perdition ! 

Pull up the rails ! Emancipation 
Cannot rest on such foundation. 

All true friends of Emancipation, 

Haste to Freedom's railroad station ; 

Ctuick into the cars get seated, 

All is ready and completed.— 

Put on the steam ! all are crying. 
And the liberty flags are flying. 

On, triumphant see them bearing, 
Through sectarian rubbish tearing; 
The bell and whistle and the steaming, 
Startle thousands from their dreaming. 

Look out for the cars while the bell rings ! 

Ere the sound your funeral knell rings. 

See the people run to meet us ; 

At the depots thousands greet us ; 

All take seats with exultation, 

In the Car Emancipation. 

Huzza ! Huzza ! ! Emancipation 
Soon will bless our happy nation. 
Huzza.! Huzza ! Huzza ! ! ! 



13 



146 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



EMANCIPATION SONG. 
Words from the " Bangor Gazette." Air, " Crambambule.'" 







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Though many still are writhing under 
The cruel whips of " chevaliers," 

"Who mothers from their children sunder, 
And scourge them for their helpless tears— 

Their safe deliv'rance is not far ! 

The day draws nigh ! — hurrah, hurrah ! 

Just ere the dawn the darkness deepest 
Surrounds the earth as with a pall ; 

Dry up thy tears, O thou that weepest, 
That on thy sight the rays may fall ! 

No doubt let now thy bosom mar : 

Send up the shout — hurrah, hurrah! 

Shall we distrust the God of Heaven 1 — 
He every doubt and fear will quell ; 

By him the captive's chains are riven — 
So let us loud the chorus swell! 

Man shall be free from cruel law, — 

Man shall be Man ! — hurrah, hurrah ! 

No more again shall it be granted 
To southern overseers to rule- 
No more will pilgrims' sons be taunted 

With cringing low in slavery's school. 
So clear the way for Freedom's car — ■ 
The free shall rule ! — hurrah, hurrah ! 

Send up the shout Emancipation — 
From heaven let the echoes bound — 

Soon will it bless this franchised nation, — 
Come raise again the stirring sound % 

Emancipation near and far — 

Swell up the shout — hurrah ! hurrah ! 



148 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



HARBINGER OP LIBERTY. 
Words by a Lady. Music by G. W. C. 



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Jim at first — but widely spreading, 
Soon 'twill burst supremely bright, 

Life and health and comfort shedding 
O'er the shades of moral night ; 

Hail it, Bondmen ! 
Slavery cannot bear its light. 

Few its rays-r-'t is but the dawning 
Of the reign of truth and peace ; 

Joy to slaves — yet sad forewarning, 
To the tyrants of our race ; 
Tremble, Tyrants ! 
Soon your cruel pow'r will cease. 

Earth is brighten'd by the glory 
Of its mild and peaceful rays ; 

Ransom'd slaves shall tell the story, 
See its light, and sing its praise ; 

Hail it, Christians I 
Harbinger of better days. 

Idg-fat of Truth.* 

Hark ! a voice from heaven proclaiming 
Comfort to the mourning slave ; 

God has heard him long complaining, 
And extends his arm to save ; 

Proud Oppression 
Soon shall find a shameful grave. 

See! the light of truth is breaking, 
Full and clear on ev'ry hand ; 

And the voice of mercy, speaking, 
Now is heard through all the land ; 

Firm and fearless, 
See the friends of Freedom stand! 

Lo ! the nation is arousing 

From its slumbers, long and deep ; 
And the church of God is waking, 

Never, never more to sleep, 
While a bondman, 

In his chains remains to weep. 

Long, too long, have we been dreaming, 
O'er our country's sin and shame ; 

Let us now, the time redeeming, 
Press the helpless captive's claim, 

Till, exulting, 
He shall cast aside his chain. 



150 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



ODE TO JAMES G. BIRNEY. 
Words by Elizur Wright. Music by G. W. C. 



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Thy country, in her darkest hour, 
When heroes bend at Mammon's shrine, 

And virtue sells herself to Power, 
Lights up in smiles at deeds like thine .' 

Then welcome to the battle's van— 

We hail thee as an honest man ! 

Thy own example leads the way 

From Egypt's gloom to Canaan's light; 

Thy justice is the breaking day 
Of Slavery's long and guilty night ; 

Then welcome to the battle's van — 

We hail thee as an honest man. 

Thine is the eagle eye to see, 

And thine a human heart to feel; 

A worthy leader of the free, 
We'll trust thee with a Nation's weal ; 

We'll trust thee in the battle's van — 

We hail thee as an honest man. 

An honest man — an honest man — 
God made thee on his noblest plan, 

To do the right and brave the scorn ; 
To stand in Freedom's " hope forlorn ;" 

Then welcome to the triumph's van — 

We hail thee as our chosen man ! 



152 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



A TRIBUTE TO DEPARTED WORTH.* 

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That can tell how beloved was the soul that's fled, Or how 




cold turf has just been laid o'er him, ) 
deep in our hearts we de - plore him : ) 



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* As sung by G. W. C. at the erection of the monument to the 
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sung as a Dirge. 



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"While it shines through our hearts will improve them j 
For worth shall look fairer, and truth more bright, 

When we think how he lived but to love them. 
And as buried saints the grave perfume, 

Where fadeless they've long been lying ; — 
So our hearts shall borrow a sweetening bloom 

From the image he left there in dying. 



154 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



THE LIBERTY VOTER'S SONG. 
Words by E. Wright, jr. Air, from "Niel Gow's Farewel." 



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On parties that to slavery cower ; 
But make it one against the wrong, 
Till down it comes, a million strong. 
The tyrant's grapple, &c. 

We'll bake the dough-face with our vote, 
Who stood the scorching when we wrote ; 
And paler than the milky way, 
We'll bake the plastic face of Clay. 
The tyrant's grapple, &c. 

Our vote shall teach all statesmen law, 
Who in the Southern harness draw ; 
So well contented to be slaves, 
They fain would prove their fathers knaves ! 
The tyrant's grapple, &c» 

We'll not provoke our wives to use 

A power that we through fear abuse ; 

His mother shall not blush to own 

One voter of us for a son. 

The tyrant's grapple, by our vote, 
We'll loosen from our brother's throat ; 
With Washington we here agree, 
Whose mother taught him to be free ! 



156 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



THE LIBERTY BALL. 

Air, " Rosin the Bow." 



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The Liberty hosts are advancing— 
For freedom to all they declare ; 

The down-trodden millions are sighing— 
Come, break up our gloom of despair. 
Come break up our gloom of despair, &c. 

Ye Democrats, come to the rescue, 

And aid on the liberty cause, 
And millions will rise up and bless you 

With heart-cheering songs of applause, 
With heart-cheering songs, &c. 

Ye Whigs forsake Clay and John Tyler I 
And boldly step into our ranks ; 

We'll spread our pure banner still wider, 
And invite all the friends of the banks, — 

And invite all the friends of the banks, &c. 

A id when we have formed the blest union 

We'll firmly march on, one and all — 
We'll sing when we meet in communion, 
And roll on the liberty ball, 

A? . U on the liberty ball, &c. 
14 



How can you stand halting while virtue 

Is sweetly appealing to all ; 
Then haste to the standard of duty, 

And roll on the liberty ball ; 

And roll on the liberty ball, &c. 

The question of test is now turning* 
And freedom or slavery must fall, 

While hope in the bosom is burning, 
We'll roll on the liberty ball ; 

We'll roll on tee liberty ball, &c. 

Ye freemen attend to your voting, 
Your ballots will answer the call ; 

And while others attend to log-rolling, 
We'll roll on the liberty ball — 

We'll roll on the liberty ball, &c. 

The Trumpet of Freedom. 

Hark ! hark ! to the Trumpet of Free- 
dom ! 
Her rallying signal she blows : 



168 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



Come, gather around her broad banner, 
And battle 'gainst Liberty's foes. 

Our forefathers plighted their honor, 
Their lives and their property, too, 

To maintain in defiance of Britain, 
Their principles, righteous and true. 

We'll show to the world we are worthy 

The blessings our ancestors won, 
And finish the temple of Freedom, 
' That Hancock and Franklin begun. 

Hurra, for the old-fashioned doctrine, 
That men are created all free ! 

We ever will boldly maintain it, 
Nor care who the tyrant may be. 

When Poland was fighting for freedom, 
Our voices went over the sea, 

To bid her God-speed in the contest — 
That Poland, like us, might be free. 

When down-trodden Greece had up-risen, 
And baffled the Mahomet crew ; 

We rejoiced in the glorious issue, 
That Greece had her liberty, too. 

Repeal, do we also delight in — 
Three cheers for the " gem of the sea !" 

And soon may the bright day be dawning, 
When Ireland, like us, shall be free. 

Like us, who are foes to oppression ; 
But not like America now. 



With shame do we blush to confess iV 
Too many to slavery bow. 

We're foes unto wrong and oppression,, 
No matter which side of the sea ; 

And ever intend to oppose them, 
Till all of God's image are free. 

Some tell us because men are colored, 
They should not our sympathy share ; 

We ask not the form or complexion — 
The seal of our Maker is there ! 

Success to the old-fashioned doctrine, 
That men are created all free ! 

And down with the power of the despot. 
Wherever his strongholds may be be. 

We're proud of the name of a freeman, 
And proud of the character, too ; 

And never will do any action, 
Save such as a freeman may do. 

We'll finish the Temple of Freedom, 
And make it capacious within, 

That all who seek shelter may find it, 
Whatever the hue of their skim 

For thus the Almighty designed it, 
And gave to our fathers the plan ; 

Intending that liberty's blessings, 
Should rest upon every man. 

Then up with the cap-stone and cornice, 

With columns encircle its wall, 
Throw open its gateway, and make it 

A HOME AND A REFUG2 FOR ALL ! 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



159 



BREAK EVERY YOKE. 

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Let eve - ry cap - tive taste the joys Of 



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160 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



THE YANKEE GIRL. 
Words by Whittier. Music by G. W. C. 



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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 163 



Who comes in his pride to that low cottage-door — 
The haughty and rich to the humble and poor'? 
'Tis the great Souihern planter — the master who waves 
His whip of dominion o'er hundreds of slaves. 

" Nay, Ellen — for shame ! Let those Yankee fools spin, 
Who would pass for our slaves with a change of their skin ; 
Let them toil as they will at the loom or the wheel, 
Too stupid for shame, and too vulgar to feel ! 

But thou art too lovely and precious a gem 
To be bound to their burdens and sullied by them— 
For shame, Ellen, shame ! — cast thy bondage aside, 
And away to the South, as my blessing and pride. 

Oh, come where no winter thy footsteps can wrong, 
But where flowers are blossoming all the year long, 
Where the shade of the palm tree is over my home, 
And the lemon and orange are white in their bloom ! 

Oh, come to my home, where my servants shall all 
Depart at thy bidding and come at thy call ; 
They shall heed thee as mistress with trembling and awe, 
And each wish of thy heart shall be felt as a law." 

Oh, could ye have seen her — that pride of our girls — 
Arise and cast back the dark wealth of her curls, 
With a scorn in her eye which the gazer could feel, 
And a glance like the sunshine that flashes on steel ! 

" Go back, haughty Southron ! thy treasures of gold 
Are dim with the blood of the hearts thou hast sold ! 
Thy home may be lovely, but round it I hear 
The crack of the whip and the footsteps of fear ! 

And the sky of thy South may be brighter than ours, 
And greener thy landscapes, and fairer thy flowers; 
But, dearer the blast round our mountains which raves, 
Than the sweet summer zephyr which breathes over slaves ! 

Full low at thy bidding thy negroes may kneel, 
With the iron of bondage on spirit and heel ; 
Yet know that the Yankee girl sooner would be 
In fetters with them, than in freedom with thee I" 



164 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



FREEDOM'S GATHERING. 



Words from the Pennsylvania Freeman. 



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166 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



Let them blacken our names and pursue us with ill ? 
Oar hearts shall be faithful to liberty still ; 
Then rally ! then rally ! come one and come all, 
With harness well girded, and echo the call. 

Thy hill-tops, New England, shall leap at the cry, 
And the prairie and far distant south shall reply j 
It shall roll o'er the land till the fathermost glen 
Gives back the glad summons again and again. 

Oppression shall hear in its temple of blood, 
And read on its wall the handwriting of God ; 
Niagara's torrent shall thunder it forth, 
It shall burn in the sentinel star of the North. 

It shall blaze in the lightning, and speak in the thunder 5 

Till Slavery's fetters are riven asunder, 

And freedom her rights has triumphantly won, 

And our country her garments of beauty put on. 

Then huzza, then huzza, 
Truth's glittering falchion for freedom we draw. 

Let them blacken our names, and pursue us with ill, 
We bow at thy altar, sweet liberty still ! 
As the breeze fmthe mountain sweeps over the river, 
So, changeless and free, shall our thoughts be, for ever. 

Then on to the conflict for freedom and truth ; 
Come Matron, come Maiden, come Manhood and youth, 
Come gather ! come gather ! come one and come all, 
And soon shall the altars of Slavery fall. 

The forests shall know it, and lift up their voice, 
To bid the green prairies and valleys rejoice ; 
And the " Father of Waters," join Mexico's sea, 
In the anthem of Nature for millions set free. 

Then huzza ! then huzza ! 
Truth's glittering falchion for freedom we draw. 



Be kind, to each other* 

BY CHARLES SWAIN. 

Be kind to each other ! 

The night's coming on, 
When friend and when brother 

Perchance may be gone ! 
Then 'midst our dejection, 

How sweet to have earned 
The blest recollection, 

Of kindness — returned ! 

When day hath departed, 
And memory keeps 



Her watch, broken-hearted, 
Where all she loved sleeps I 

Let falsehood assail not, 
Nor envy disprove — 

Let trifles prevail not 
Against those ye love ! 

Nor change with to-morrow, 

Should fortune take wing, 
But the deeper the sorrow, 

The closer still cling ! 
Oh ! be kind to each other ! 

The night's coming on, 
When friend and when brother 

Perchance may be gone. 



LIBERTY MINSTREL 



167 



PRAISE AND PRAYER. 

Words by Miss Chandler. 



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Praise ! for loving hearts that still 
With life's bounding pulses thrill ; 
Praise, that still our own may know — 
Earthly joy and earthly woe. 
Praise for every varied good, 
Bounteous round our pathway strew'd ! 

Prayer ! for grateful hearts to raise 
Incense meet of prayer and praise ! 
Prayer, for spirits calm and meek, 



Wisdom life's best joys to seek ; 
Strength 'midst devious p:iths to tread- 
That through which the Saviour led. 

Prayer ! for those who, day by day, 
Weep their bitter life away ; 
Prayer, for those who bind the chain' 
Rudely on their throbbing vein — 
That repentance deep rJIny win 
Pardon for the fearful sin / 



168 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



THE SLAVE'S LAMENTATION. 



A Parody by Tucker. 



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Sadly my wife bowed her beautiful head — 

Long, long ago — long ago ! 
Oh , how I wept when I found she was dead i 

Long, long ago — long ago ! 
She was my angel, my love and my pride — 
Vainly to save her from torture I tried, 
Poor broken heart ! She rejoiced as she died, 
Long, long ago — long, long ago ! 

Let me look back on the days of my youth- 
Long, long ago — long ago ! 
Master withheld from me knowledge and truth- 
Long, long ago — long ago ! 
Crushed all the hopes of my earliest day, 
Sent me from father and mother away — 
Forbade me to read, nor allowed me to pray — 
Long, long ago — long, long ago ! 



15 



170 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



THE STRANGER AND HIS FRIEND. 



Montgomery and Denison. 



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171 







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Once, when my scanty meal was spread, 

He entered— not a word he spake — 
Just perishing for want of bread, 

I gave him all ; he blessed it, brake. 
And ate, but gave me part again : 
Mine was an angel's portion then, 
For while I fed with eager haste, 
The crust was manna to my taste. 

J Twas night. The floods were out, it blew 

A winter hurricane aloof: 
I heard his voice abroad, and flew 

To bid him welcome to my roof; 
I warmed, I clothed, I cheered my guest, 
I laid him on my couch to rest : 
Then made the ground my bed and seemed 
In Eden's garden while I dreamed. 

I saw him bleeding in his chains, 

And tortured 'neath the driver's lash, 
His sweat fell fast along the plains, 

Deep dyed from many a fearful gash : 
But I in bonds remembered him, 
And strove to free each fettered limb, 
As with my tears I washed his blood, 
Me he baptized with mercy's flood. 



172 LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



I saw him in the negro pew, 

His head hung low upon his breast, 
His locks were wet with drops of dew, 

Gathered while he for entrance pressed 
Within those aisles, whose courts are given 
That black and white may reach one heaven ; 
And as I meekly sought his feet, 
He smiled, and made a throne my seat. 

In prison I saw him next condemned 
To meet a traitor's doom at morn ; 

The tide of lying tongues I stemmed, 
And honored him midst shame and scorn. 

My friendship's utmost zeal to try, 

He asked if I for him would die ; 

The flesh was weak, my blood ran chill, 

But the free spirit cried, " I will." 

Then in a moment to my view, 

The stranger darted from disguise ; 
The tokens in his hands I knew, 

My Saviour stood before my eyes ! 
He spoke, and my poor name he named— 
" Of me thou hast not been ashamed, 
These deeds shall thy memorial be ; 
Fear not, thou didst them unto me." 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



173 



WE'RE FOR FREEDOM THOUGH THE LAND. 

Words by J. E. Robinson. Music arranged from the " Old Granite State." 



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LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



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175 




Morris and for Birney, and for Freedom through the land. 

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We have hatred, dark and deep, for the fetter and the thong; 

We bring light for prisoned spirits, for the captive's wail a song ; 

We are coming, we are coming ! and, " No league with tyrant man," 

Is emblazoned on our banner, while Jehovah leads the van ! 
We will vote for Birney, 
We will vote for Birney, 
We're for Morris and for Birney, 
And for Freedom through the land ! 



We are coming, we are coming ! but we wield no battle brand : < 

We are armed with truth and justice, with God's charter in our 
hand , 

And our voice which swells for freedom— freedom now and ever 
more — 

Shall be heard as ocean's thunder, when they burst upon the shore ! 
We will vote for Birney, 
We will vote for Birney, 
We're for Morris and for Birney, 
And for Freedom through the land. 



176 LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



Be patient, O, be patient ! ye suffering ones of earth ! 
Denied a glorious heritage — our ccmmon right by birth ; 
With fettered limbs and spirits, your battle shall be won ! 
O be patient — we are coming ! suffer on, suffer on ! 

We will vote for Birney, 
\ We will vote for Birney, 

We're for Morris and for Btrney, 
And for Freedom through the land. 

We are coming, we are coming ! not as comes the tempests 

wrath, 
When the frown of desolation sits brooding o'er its path ; 
But with mercy, such as leaves his holy signet-light upon 
The air in lambent beauty, when the darkened storm is gone. 

We will vote for Birney, 
We will vote for Birney, 
We're for Morris and for Birney, 
And for Freedom through the land. 

O, be patient in your misery ! be mute in your despair I 

While your chains are grinding deeper, there's a voice upon the air ! 

Ye shall feel its potent echoes, ye shall hear its lovely sound, 

We are coming S we are coming ! bringing freedom to the bound ! 

We will vote for Birney, 
We will vote for Birney, 
We're for Morris and for Birney, 
And for Freedom through the land. 

Notb.— Suggested by a song sung by George W. Clark, at a recent convention 
in Rochester, N. Y. 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



177 



WE ARE ALL CHILDREN OF ONE PARENT, 



Words from the Youth's Cabinet. 



Music by L. Mason. 






Sister, thou art worn and weary, Toiling for another's gain ; 




Thou must rise at dawn of light, And thy daily task pursue, 



Life with thee is dark and dreary, Filled with wretchedness and pain. 



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Till the darkness of the night Hide thy labors from thy view. 



Oft, alas ! thou hast to bear 

Sufferings more than tongue can tell ; 
Thy oppressor will not spare, 

But delights thy griefs to swell ; 
Oft thy back the scourge has felt, 

Then to God thou'st raised the cry 
That the tyrant's heart he'd melt 

Ere thou should'st in tortures die. 

Injured sister, well we know 

That thy lot in life is hard ; 
Sad thy state of toil and wo, 

From all blessedness debarred ; 
While each sympathizing heart 

Pities thy forlorn distress ; 
We would sweet relief impart, 

And delight thy soul to bless. 



And what lies within our power 

We most cheerfully will do, 
That will haste the blissful hour 

Fraught with news of joy to you ; 
And when comes the happy day 

That, shall free our captive friend, 
When Jehovah's mighty sway 

Shall to slavery put an end : 

Then, dear sister, we with thee 

Will to heaven direct our voice ; 
Joyfully with voices free 

We'll in lofty strains rejoice ; 
Gracious God ! thy name we'll bless, 

Hallelujah evermore, 
Thou hast heard in righteousness, 

And our sister's griefs are o'er. 



17$ LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



Manhood. 

BY ROBERT BURNS. 

Tune, " Our Warrior's Hearts," page 188. 

Is there, for honest poverty, 

That hangs his head, and a' that ; 
The coward-slave, we pass him by. 

We dare be poor, for a' that ; 
For a' that and a' that ; 

Our toils obscure, and a' that, 
The rank is but the guinea's stamp, 

The man's the gowd, for a' that, 

What though on homely fare we dine, 

Wear hodden gray and a' that, 
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their win% 

A man's a man for a' that ; 
The honest man tho' e'er so poor, 

Is king o' men for a' that; 
The rank is but the guinea's stamp. 

The man's the gowd for a' that. 

Then let us pray that come it may, 

As come it will, for a- that, 
That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, 

May bear the gree, and a' that ; 
For a' that, and a' that, 

It's coming yet, for a' that, 
That man to man, the world all o'er 

Shall brother's be, for a' that. 

Terms explained : — Gowd — gold. 4 

Hodden — homespun, or mean 
Gree — honor, or victory. 



The Poor Voter's Song* 

Air, " Lucy Long.'* 

They knew that I was poor, 

And they thought that I was base 5 
They thought that I'd endure 

To be covered with disgrace ; 
They thought me of their tribe, 

Who on filthy lucre doat, 
So they offered me a bribe 

For my vote, boys ! my vote ! 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 179 



O shame upon my betters, 
Who would my conscience buy ! 

But I'll not wear their fetters, 
Not I, indeed, not I ! 

My vote % It is not mine 

To do with as I will ; 
To cast, like pearls, to swine,, 

To these wallow ers in ill. 
It is my country's due, 

And I'll give it, while I can, 
To the honest and the true, 

Like a man, like a man ! 
O shame, &c. 

No, no, I'll hold my vote, 

As a treasure and a trust, 
My dishonor none shall quote, 

When I'm mingled with the dust ; 
And my children when I'm gone, 

Shall be strengthened by the thought, 
That their father was not one 

To be bought, to be bought ! 
O shame, <&c. 



The Flying- Slave. 

FROM THE BANGOR GAZETTE. 

AIR : — " To Greece we give our shining blades** 

The night is dark, and keen the air, 
And the Slave is flying to be free ; 
His parting word is one short prayer : 
Oh God, but give me Liberty ! 

Farewell — farewell : 
Behind I leave the whips and chains, 
Before me spreads sweet Freedom's plains. 

One star shines in the heavens above 
That guides him on his lonely way ;— 
Star of the North — how deep his love 
For thee, thou star of Liberty ! 
Farewell — farewell : 
Behind he leaves the whips and chains, 
Before him spreads sweet Freedom's plains- 



180 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 



For tlie Election. 

TUNE : — ' Scots whahae with Wallace bled.' 

Ye who know and do the right, 
Ye who cherish honor bright, 
Ye who worship love and light, 

Choose your side to-day. 
Succor Freedom, now you can, 
Voting for an honest man ; 
Or you may from Slavery's span, 

Pick a Polk or Clay. 

Boasts your vote no higher aim, 
Than between two blots of shame 
That would stain our country's 
fame, 

Just to choose the least/? 
Let it sternly answer no ! 
Let it straight for Freedom go ; 
Let it swell the winds that blow 

From the north and east. 

Blot ! — the smaller — is a curse 
Blighting conscience, honor, purse ; 
Give us any, give the worse, 

'Twill be less endured. 
Freemen, is it God who wills 
You to choose, of foulest ills, 
That which only latest kills 1 

No ; he wills it cured, 

Do your duty, He will aid ; 
Dare to vote as you have prayed ; 
Who e're conquered, while his 
blade 

Served his open foes. 
Right established, would you see ? 
Feel that you yourselves are free ; 
Strike for that which ought to be — 

God will bless the blows. 

Mail the 15ay ! 

air :— " Wreathe the bowl.'' 1 

Hail the day 

"Whose joyful ray 
Speaks of emancipation ! 

The day that broke 

Oppression's yoke — 
The birth-day of a nation ! 

When England's might 
Put forth for right, 



Achieved a fame more glorious 

Than armies tried, 

Or navies' pride, 
O'er land and sea victorious ! 

Soon may we gain 

An equal name 
In honor's estimation ! 

And righteousness 

Exalt and bless 
Our glorious happy nation ! 

Brave hearts shall lend 

Srong hands to rend 
Foul slavery's bonds asunder, 

And liberty 

Her jubilee 
Proclaim, in tones of thunder I 

We hail afar 

Fair freedom's star, 
Her day-star brightly glancing ; 

We hear the tramp 

From freedom's camp, 
Assembling and advancing! 

No noisy drum 

Nor murderous gun, 
No deadly fiends contending; 

But love and right 

Their force unite, 
In peaceful conflict blending. 

Fair freedom's host, 

In joyful boast, 
Unfolds her banner ample ! 

With Channing's fame, 

And Whittier's name, 
And Birney's bright example ! 

Come join your hands 

With freedom's bands, 
New England's sons and daughters ! 

Speak your decree — 

Man shall be free — 
As mountains, winds and waters ! 

And haste the day 

Whose coming ray 
Speaks our emancipation ! 

Whose glorious light, 

Enthroning right, 
Shall bless and save the nation ! 



LIBERTY MI&STREX,. l&L 

(From the Globe.) 
The Ballot. 

BY J. E. DOW. 

Air, " Bonnie Doon," page 54, 
Dread sovereign, thou ! the chainless will— 

Thy source the nation's mighty heart — 
The ballot box thy cradle still — 

Thou speak'st, and nineteen millions start; 
Thy subjects, sons of noble sires, 

Descendants of a patriot band — 
Thy lights a million's household fires— 

Thy daily walk, my native land. 

And shall the safeguard of the free, 

By valor won on gory plains, 
Become a solemn mockery 

While freemen breathe and virtue reigns % 
Shall liberty be bought and sold 

By guilty creatures clothed with power?- 
Is honor but a name for gold, 

And PRINCIPLE A WITHERED FLOWER ? 

The parricide's accursed steel 

Has pierced thy sacred sovereignty; 
And all who think, and all who feel, 

Must act or never more be free. 
No party chains shall bind us here ; 

No mighty name shall turn the blow : 
Then, wounded sovereignty, appear, 

And lay the base apostates low. 

The wretch, with hands by murder red, 

May hope for mercy at the last ; 
And he who steals a nation's bread, 

May have oblivion's statute passed. 
But he who steals a sacred right, 

And brings his native land to scorn, 
Shall die a traitor in her sight, 

With none to pity or to mourn. 

The Spirit of tlie Pilgrims* 

Tune, "Be free, Oh man, be free," page 134. 

The spirit of the Pilgrims 

Is spreading o'er the earth, 
And millions now point to the land 

Where Freedom had her birth : 

16 



182 LIBERT? MINSTREL. 



Hark ! Hear ye not the earnest cry 
That peals o'er every wave 1— 
" God above, 
In thy love, 
O liberate the slave !' J 

Ye heard of trampled Poland, 
And of her sons in chains, 
And noble thoughts flashed through your minds 

And fire flowed through your veins. 
Then wherefore hear ye not the cry 
That breaks o'er land and sea % — 
" On each plain. 
Rend the chain, 
And set the captive free !" 

Oh, think ye that our fathers, 
(That noble patriot band,) 
Could now look down with kindling joj f 

And smile upon the land 1 
Or would a trumpet-tone go forth, 
And ring from shore to shore ;— 
li All who stand, 
In this land, 
Shall be free for evermore I" 

Great God, inspire thy children, 
And make thy creatures just, 
That every galling chain may fall, 

And crumble into dust : 
That not one soul throughout the land 
Our fathers died to save, 
May again, 
By fellow-men, 
Be branded as a Slave ! 

What Mean Ye ? 
Tune—' Ortonville.' 

What mean ye that ye bruise and bind 

My people, saith the Lord, 
And starve your craving brother's mind, 

Who asks to hear my word % 

What mean ye that ye make them toil, 
Through long and dreary years, 

And shed like rain upon your soil 
Their blood and bitter tears % 



LIBERTY MINSTREL. 183 



What mean ye, that ye dare to rend 

The tender mother's heart % 
Brothers from sisters, friend from freind, 

How dare you bid them part % 

What mean ye when God's bounteous hand, 

To you so much has given, 
That from the slave who tills your land, 

Ye keep both earth and heaven % 

When at the judgment God shall call, 

Where is thy brother 1 say, 
What mean ye to the Judge of all 

To answer on that day 1 

Hymn for Children. 

air :— «" Miss Lucy Long." ' 

BY W. S. ABBOTT. 

While we are happy here, 
In joy and peace and love, 

We'll raise our hearts, with holy fear, 
To thee, great God, above. 

God of our infant hours ! 

The music of our tongues, 
The worship of our nobler powers. 

To thee, to thee belongs. 

The little, trembling slave 

Shall feel our sympathy ; 
O God, ! arise with might to save, 

And set the captive free. 

No parent's holy care 

Provides for him repose, 
But oil the hot and briny tear, 

In sorrow freely flows, 

The God of Abraham praise; 

The curse he will remove ; 
The slave shall welcome happy days, 

With liberty and love. 

Pray without ceasing, pray, 
Ye saints of God Most High, 

That all who hail this glorious day, 
Mav have their liberty. 



184 LIBERT 1' JHINSTKE.L, 



liil>erty G-Iee. 
tune : — " The Pirate's Glee.'" 

March on I march on! we love the Liberty flag. 

That's waving o'er our land ; 
As fearless as the eagle soaring 

O'er the cloud-capped mountain crag. 
Slavery in terror flies before us ; 

We fling our banner to the blast ; 
It there shall float triumphant o'er us, 

We will defend it to the last, 

March on ! march on, &c. 
Vote on ! vote on, we hail the Liberty flag, 

That leads us on our way ; 
We'll boldly vote, our country saving, 

And bravely conquer while we may. 
The world is up — for freedom moving, 

The thunders' distant roar we hear — 
From land to land the free are calling, 

And slaves with joy and rapture hear. 
Vote on ! vote on, &c, 

Marcla ©si ! March on I 

tune : — " The Pirate 1 s Glee.' 1 '' 

March on! march on, ye friends of freedom for alij 

For truth and right contend ; 
Be ever ready at humanity's call, 

Till tyrant's power shall end. 
The proud slave-holders rule the nation, 

The people's groans are loud and long ; 
Arouse, ye men, in every station, 

And join to crush the power of wrong.— March on 3 etc. 
Fight on! fight on, ye brave till victory's won, 

And justice shall prevail ; 
Till all shall feel the rays of liberty's sun. 

Streaming o'er hill and dale. 
The tyrants know their guilt and tremble. 

The glowing light of truth they fear ; 
Then let them all their hosts assemble, 

And Slavery's dreadful sentence hear. 
Fight on ! fight on, &c. 
Roll on ! roll on, ye brave, the liberty car, 

Our country's name to save ; 
Soon shall our land be known to nations afar, 

As the home of the free and brave. 
The voice of freemen loud hath spoken, 

A brighter day we soon shall see ; 
When Slavery's chains shall all be broken, 

And all the captive millions free. 
Roll on, roll on, &e. 



INDEX, 



Pag* 
Am I not a Man and Brother 1 -56 

Am I not a Sister? -•---.... 57 
Afric's Dream --*--._. . 20 

A Beacon has been lighted - >. - -. . - - 74 

A vision - - - 142 

Are ye truly Free % 126 

A Tribute to departed worth ------- 152 

Brothers be Brave for the pining Slave - . - - - 26 

Blind Slave Boy - - - - - 37 

Bereaved Father ........ io 

Birney and Liberty - . . 129 

Ballot-Box ......... 130 

Be free ! O man, be free ! - 134 

Break every yoke - .„.-»_ 159 

Be kind to each other - - - - - - - - 166 

Comfort in affliction - ........ 44 

Clarion of Freedom — - - « - - - - 80 

Come join the Abolitionists - 96 

Comfort for the bondmen - 108 

Come and see the works of God 109 

Christian Mother - - - > - - * - - 131 

Domestic Bliss --.--..-.31 

Emancipation Song - - 146 

Fugitive Slave to the Christian 34 

Fourth of July 88^ 

Freedom's Gathering - ■ 164 

Friend of the Friendless 103 

Gone ! gone, sold and gone 5 

Get off the Track 144 

Heard ye that Cry 1 48 

How long! O, how Ion - •• . . - - - 33 

Hark ! I hear a sound ot anguish ------ "34 

Hail the day ! - 180 

Hark! a voice from Heaven 110 

Holy freedom - 120 

Harbinger of Liberty 148 

Hymn for Children - 



I would not live alway ------- 59 

I am Monarch of naught I survey - - - - - 18 

Liberty battle Song - 128 

Light of Truth ----...«.- 149 
Liberty Glee - 184 

Manhood - - - : - - 178 

My child is gone -------- 43 

March to the Battle-field - 115 

Myron Holly 77 

March on ! march on ! - - - - - - 184 

Negro Boy sold for a watch ...... 16 

O Pity the Slave Mother ....... 32 

Our Pilgrim Fathers - GO 

Our Countrymen in chains ! - - - - - - - 76 

On to Victory ---".....« 83 

Our Countrymen are dying - - -''_.'« - - -94 

O Charity ! ------..- 101 

Oft in the chilly night - - •> - "^ . - - -117 

Ode to James G. Birney - - "~ - '■'% - - - 150 

Prayer for the Slave - - - . - - , . - -' * -52 

Pilgrim Song -.-„-,„-_- - - - - 86 

Praise and Prayer - - - - , - ^ - - - - 167 

Poor Voter's Song - - - - - -' - - - 178 

Quadroon Maiden - - - - - . . -29 

Remembering God is just - - - - - - -53 

Rise ! Freeman rise ! 73 

Rouse up, New England ! 70 

Remember me 73 

Sleep on, my Child ---------49 

Song of the Corfle gang ------- 22 

Slave's Wrongs - - -40 

Stanzas for the times 63 

Slave Boy's Wish - 9 

Slave Girl mourning'hef Father ------ 12 

Slave Mother and her babe - 13 

Strike for liberty - . - - 82 

Sing me a triumph Song = * „ - - 91 

Song of the Free - ■,.-■ - , 118 



Stolen we were - - 140 

The law of love ,-.-..--- 100 

The fugitive - 54 

The poor little slave -------- 45 

The Bereaved Mother - 46 

The Negro's appeal - -' . ' - - . - • - 14 

The Strength of tyranny - * - - - - - - - 36 

To those I Love - - Q6 

The Bondman - - - '- - 87 

The man for me - ■ - - - - - - - - 84 

The Mercy-Seat --------- 102 

The pleasant land we love - - » - - - 112 

The freed Slave - - - - - -« - - 11£ 

The Liberty Flag -:,-.--.-..-- 114 

The Liberty party - - - - - - - . • - - 132 

The last night of Slavery - - - - - - = 136 

The Little Slave Girl -------- 138 

The Liberty Voter's Song - - - - - - - 154 

The Liberty Ball - 156 

The Trumpet of Freedom ------ 157 

The Slave's Lamentation 168 

The Stranger and his Friend - 170 

That's my Country - - - - * - - - - 127 

The flying Slave --------- 179 

The Election - - - 180 

The Ballot - 181 

The Spirit of the Pilgrims 181 

The Ballot-Box - - • -130 

Voice of New England 78 

Wake sons of the Pilgrims 92 

What means that sad and dismal Look 8 

We're coming, We're coming 68 

Wake, Sons of the Pilgrims 92 

We are Come, all Come -99 

We're for Freedom through the Lapd ■ 173 

We are all children of one Parent 167 

Wake, Ye Numbers ------- 104 

What mean ye, that ye bruise and bind'? ... - 182 
We ask not Martial Glory 95 

Ye Heralds of Freedom - - - - - - - - 58 

Ye spirits of the Free 9Q 

Ye Sons of Freemen 12J 

Yankee Girl - 160 

Zaza - 50 



BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY 




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